


Boys of Summer

by SecretMaker



Series: Actual Miles [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dual Narrative, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Getting Back Together, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 22:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11322969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecretMaker/pseuds/SecretMaker
Summary: After everything they put each other through in college, Daichi and Terushima hope to never see each other again. But when a twist of fate finds them working for the same modeling agency, they have to learn to live with one another, for better or worse. And who knows. Maybe they'll learn a little bit more along the way.





	Boys of Summer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ryekamasaki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryekamasaki/gifts).



It was the screaming that always did it for Daichi. Terushima loved to let people know how he liked it, loved to let them know he was having a good time. So when Daichi fucked him on his tongue or his fingers, when he gripped his hair and pulled, when he bit into the meat of his neck, he screamed. He screamed and he sobbed and he moaned and Daichi loved every minute of it.

 

“You gonna beg for me?” Daichi growled, low and rough into Terushima’s ear as he scissored his fingers roughly. “You gonna beg me to fuck you? Beg for my cock?” Terushima sobbed, nodding frantically, but he was long past the point of words. “I can’t hear you, Yuuji.”

 

“P-please,” croaked Terushima, scrabbling at the sheets. “Dai- p-plea-” he broke off into a stuttering moan, a moan that echoed in Daichi’s ears, blending with the sound of his alarm tearing him from the memory-dream. He stared at his ceiling for a moment, drowning in the memories of the past few years. He turned off his alarm and dragged himself from his bed.

 

“Oh man, you look like shit,” was the cheerful greeting Daichi got when he finally emerged from his bedroom. He slumped over to the kitchen, where Noya was standing ready with a large mug full of coffee that was mostly cream and sugar. “Like, seriously, man, you look like Asahi after a night out with Saeko-neesan.”

 

“You take that back,” Daichi grumbled. Noya just grinned, bouncing over to where a pan was sizzling on the stove.

 

“What do you want in your omelet?” Noya asked, and just like that, they settled into routine, like it was any other morning. Which it was.

 

Unfortunately.

 

No fewer than three models threw fits, storming around the studio throwing things and screaming. Two of the photographers did likewise, and one of the newer assistants. Another model started crying, another broke up with her boyfriend in favor of yet another. Daichi heard all of this happen from his fortress in the deepest corner of the offices, but it did not touch him. Very little did in this place.

 

“You look like shit.” _That_ voice did touch him, drawing him out of his world of numbers and spreadsheets. He grinned, taking the coffee offered to him by his favorite of the studio’s regular models.

 

“You’re the second person to tell me that today,” he said. Iwaizumi shrugged, flopping down into the chair at the empty desk across from Daichi’s.

 

“It’s true,” he said. “Did you sleep at all last night?”

 

“Maybe a couple hours,” Daichi said with a shrug. He took a sip of his coffee, groaning at the warmth and caffeine flooding his system. “Anything noteworthy on the front?” he asked.

 

“No, but it’s still early,” Iwaizumi said. “They’re bringing in that new photographer today, for the candy shoot. Apparently he’s got a reputation.”

 

“It can’t be any worse than your boyfriend’s,” Daichi muttered, flicking through the expense reports in front of him.

 

“Hanamaki is _not_ my boyfriend,” Iwaizumi snapped. Daichi grunted.

 

“Never said he was,” he mumbled, frowning at the atrocious handwriting on the report. “Who the hell spends fifty thousand yen on a camera strap?”

 

“Probably Tsukishima,” Iwaizumi said. “Anyway, can you do me a favor and just murder me right now?”

 

“Nope,” Daichi said, not looking up. “You have to work with Oikawa, just like everyone else.”

 

“You can’t make me.”

 

“No, I can’t. But if you’re still in here when Akaashi comes looking for you, I’m not saving your ass.” Iwaizumi slumped, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Then with an overblown sigh he dragged himself out of his chair and over to the door.

 

“Last chance to be a true friend?” he tried. Daichi ignored him. It didn’t take long to get lost in the numbers and figures once more, the morning slipping away the same as any other.

 

Daichi was just coming back with his lunch when the new photographer arrived. He slipped into the main office just in time to avoid the collision and stood listening at the door, ready but not really willing to step in should things get out of hand. There was more than enough muscle in the studio that day, but sometimes that only made things worse.

 

“Attention everyone!” called Akaashi, voice ringing clear and authoritative through the studio. The noise faded slowly, until Daichi could just picture Akaashi standing quiet and contained, everyone’s eyes on him. “I would like to introduce a new photographer who has signed on with the agency. He will be taking lead on the candy shoot this afternoon. Please make him welcome.” He said it without inflection.

 

“Thank you, Akaashi-san. I look forward to working with everyone.” Oh.

 

Daichi knew that voice.

 

That voice was late nights with fists tightened in sheets and teeth set against skin. That voice was bitter fighting, poison dripping from lips. That voice was a crack and a sniffle, begging Daichi not to go as he walked out of the door for the last time, cursing his name through the door before it dissolved into quiet sobbing.

 

Daichi’s hand trembled on the doorknob. Daichi’s heart fluttered in his chest. Daichi’s legs felt like lead as he stepped out of his office to see the new photographer standing in the middle of the studio floor, camera bag over one shoulder and a nervous smile on his face.

 

Terushima had changed since the last time they had seen each other. His hair was longer and darker, swept backwards and dyed red at the tips, the same scruffy undercut on either side. He had more piercings in his ears now, and one in the side of his nose. There was a sure set to his shoulders and a maturity to his eyes and a curl of black ink poking out of the neck of his tight red sweater. But he was Terushima, and he was turning and his eyes were catching on Daichi and the color was draining from his face then flooding back tenfold. He could see the question in Terushima’s eyes and the name forming on his lips. He ducked back into the office before it was complete.

 

Daichi was shaking as he dug his phone out of his pocket, telling himself sternly not to run as he escaped to his personal office in the very back. He fired off the text as he slammed his door closed, collapsing back against it hard enough to knock all the air from his lungs.

 

ME: [Suga I have a very big problem]

 

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the wood and trying to keep his breath regular and even as he waited for the reply. The last time he had seen Terushima had been the Worst Day of His Life, the day he had cut all ties and promised himself to never look back.

 

KOISHI: [How big? Hide a body big? Make a body big? Or wreck a body big?]

 

KOISHI: [Because if you need help hiding a body, Satori has the truck until Thursday.]

 

ME: [Why is your first reaction always murder]

 

ME: [Actually dont answer that]

 

ME: [But you may need to collect my body]

 

KOISHI: [Daichi, honey, what’s wrong?]

 

Daichi took a deep breath. He didn’t look at the text before he sent it off, sure that if he did he would lose every bit of nerve he possessed.

 

ME: [Terushima is here]

 

For a moment there was nothing. Then his phone rang.

 

“Daichi, where are you?” Suga didn’t bother with a greeting, or with waiting for Daichi to give one himself, and that alone made a smile twitch across Daichi’s face. It faded quickly.

 

“I’m… hiding,” he admitted quietly. “I’m in my office.”

 

“Okay, stay there. I’m going to come get you.” Daichi sighed, shaking his head.

 

“That’s not going to fix this,” he mumbled. “Remember that new photographer I was telling you about? The one Akaashi had to seduce three different people to get his hands on?”

 

“The lettuce guy?” Daichi smiled.

 

“Yeah. Guess who.”

 

“Oh, Daichi.” There was so much in that Oh Daichi, years of late night ice cream runs and promises and fingers carding through hair. Suga had been there on the Worst Day, and on every single worst day after that.

 

“I don’t know what to do, Suga,” whispered Daichi. Suga hummed softly.

 

“First things first. You’re going to text Akaashi and tell him you’re going home today. Then you’re going to save all your work and make sure your desk is clean. Can you do that for me?” In the background, Daichi could hear the sounds of Suga pulling on a coat and grabbing his keys and leaving his apartment. Daichi took a deep breath to steady himself.

 

“Yeah,” he murmured.

 

“Okay. I’m about ten minutes away, so text me when you finish doing that and I’ll give you another step. It’s gonna be okay, Dai.” Daichi nodded, then frowned when he realized Suga couldn’t see it.

 

“Okay,” he said. “Okay.” Suga said a quiet goodbye and Daichi returned it, then sat on the floor against his door for a moment, staring at nothing. The clock on the wall ticked over to the next minute loudly, and he dragged himself to his feet.

 

By the time he had texted Akaashi and shut down his computer, he had managed to waste seven minutes. Suga told him to eat his sandwich, so he did, for another two and a half. He pulled on his coat and made sure he had his keys, wallet, and phone to use up the last of his time.

 

Suga arrived the way he always did, like a thundercloud rolling across the sky. Daichi listened to the greetings being shouted, and the questions and the worried mumbling when Suga brushed them all off in favor of storming through the offices. The air itself felt charged and heavy as Suga stopped his office at the end of the row and knocked softly on the door. Daichi dropped the remains of his sandwich in the trash bin and opened the door.

 

“Daichi.” Suga stood before him, a god of vengeance and fury, sucking all the warmth out of the room like a black hole. He grabbed Daichi’s arm, wrapping himself firmly around it, and strode through the office, dragging Daichi with him. There was something to be said about the way no one tried to stop them, or even said a word as they left the warehouse that housed the studio. It wasn’t until they were a few blocks away that Daichi realized Suga was muttering under his breath.

 

“Please don’t murder him,” Daichi sighed. He tugged his arm free and wrapped it around Suga’s shoulder instead.

 

“Give me one good reason, Daichi,” Suga snapped.

 

“Akaashi would cry,” Daichi deadpanned. “And anyway, I was the one who broke up with him, you know.”

 

“Oh, yeah, you broke up with him,” Suga snarled. “Because he was off constantly flirting with anything with legs and picking fights and making your life a living hell, and even _after_ you left, you were miserable for _months,_ Daichi. I remember _that_ very well.”

 

“He wasn’t the only one to blame.” He said it quietly, but with the way Suga stopped in his tracks and stared up at him, he almost wondered if he’d yelled.

 

“ _He_ is also not my best friend,” Suga hissed. “And if _he_ ever shows _his_ face in front of me, I will _ruin it._ ”

 

“You’re scary when you’re protective,” Daichi commented. Suga fumed a moment longer, then tossed his head and kept moving.

 

“I need coffee,” he growled. “Which way is that shop you took me to that one time?”

 

“That’s such a specific description,” Daichi droned, but he steered Suga in the right direction nevertheless.

 

Suga had always had a soothing effect on Daichi’s anxiety, but there was only so much he could do in this situation. Even if he explained the whole thing to Akaashi, there was no way around working with Terushima at the studio, and Daichi was not about to give up the job he’d worked so hard for, not after everything he and Akaashi and the others had been through. And all the death threats in the world didn’t change the fact that Daichi would still have to go to work the next day and face the fact that this was his life now. There would be no more running away after today, not if Daichi ever wanted to look himself in the eye again.

 

Suga dropped him off outside his apartment building after their coffee date with the promise of immediate help and/or body hiding service should it be needed. Daichi managed to actually laugh as he waved him off, then took a deep breath and trudged up the stairs. Noya was waiting for him in the kitchen, a styrofoam box from the restaurant and bar where he and Asahi and Tanaka worked sitting on the counter in front of him. Daichi narrowed his eyes.

 

“What.” He growled, eyeing the box. Noya rolled his eyes.

 

“Suga texted Asahi and asked if he could send me home with some,” he said. “He said you had a rough day?”

 

“Remember Terushima?” Daichi sighed, dropping into a barstool across from Noya and dragging the box closer to him. Noya made a vague, affirming noise. “He’s also the new photographer Akaashi hired.”

 

“No!” gasped Noya, clutching at his chest like an old woman. Daichi snorted, shoveling ramen into his mouth. “What happened?”

 

“Nothing,” Daichi said. “We saw each other, and then I panicked and hid in my office until Suga came and got me. And then I talked Suga out of killing him.”

 

“Why’d you do that? I would have encouraged him.” Daichi rolled his eyes at Noya, choosing to ignore the comment. Noya shrugged and started digging around in the fridge. “Oh by the way,” he said, emerging with a sports drink and a yawn. “We got a new neighbor. Pretty quiet, but he had this look in his eye that says he and Suga would get along really well.”

 

“Oh, goody,” Daichi mumbled around a mouthful of ramen. “That’s just what we need.” Noya shrugged.

 

“He said he had a roommate, but I didn’t get to meet him. Anyway, I’m headed over to Ryuu’s tomorrow after work, so don’t expect me back until Sunday.” With that, Noya shuffled off into his bedroom and Daichi was left in the silent kitchen. He finished his ramen and turned off the lights, shuffling to his bedroom and trying not to feel like a total waste of skin.

 

-*-

 

It started, like it always did, with Terushima’s fat mouth. Daichi couldn’t even remember what had set him off, just that it had been said with those smoldering bedroom eyes, and that the girl it had been said to had giggled and twirled her hair around her finger and had generally not been Daichi. He had waited until the girl had blushed and left to fill Terushima’s order, then stepped up behind him and wrapped a hand around his arm.

 

“Let’s go,” Daichi had snarled, and then tugged Terushima out of the coffee shop before either of them could get their coffee. They had barely made it to Daichi’s dorm, the door slamming behind them just in time for Daichi to slam Terushima into it.

 

“Daichi, wha-” Terushima cut off with a moan as Daichi fisted his hair and yanked his head back, exposing the long line of his neck. He didn’t waste a moment before sinking his teeth in, groaning at the way Terushima jerked and whimpered at the assault. Daichi pulled off to lick at the reddening marks, drawing a line to the soft, tender place behind his jaw. He sucked, hard, the hand not busy holding Terushima by the hair wandering down his torso to grind his palm against the bulge in Terushima’s pants.

 

“So hard already,” Daichi teased, smirking at the way Terushima’s hips jumped into the touch. He pressed harder, too hard probably, just to watch Terushima squirm. The pleasure began to fade from Terushima’s whining, so Daichi eased off, stroking him almost tenderly. He pulled back to look at Terushima, at the red marks on his neck and the way his pupils were blown wide and his hair was a disheveled mess, and a fire, dark and dirty and possessive, flooded his veins. “What do you want, Yuuji?”

 

And it was unfair, really, the way Daichi only ever said his given name when they were like this. It was unfair, it was cruel, and Daichi did it anyway. He liked the way it made Terushima whimper out a broken little “Please, Daichi, please touch me.”

 

So Daichi complied, tightening his hold on Terushima’s cock and hair and diving in to suck more marks into his skin. He worked Terushima through the throes of his orgasm, only pulling away when he began to whine and try to jerk out of Daichi’s hold.

 

“You okay?” Daichi whispered, a brief respite that they both knew would not be coming again anytime soon. Terushima took a moment to heave a few shuddering breaths, then nodded. “Good,” Daichi growled. “Because I’m not done with you yet.” He hooked his fingers in Terushima’s jacket and hauled him deeper into the dorm, knocking against furniture and tripping over laundry in his quest for the bed. He threw Terushima onto the mattress and crawled on top of him, locking their mouths together in something too filthy to be called a kiss.

 

“Daichi,” moaned Terushima as Daichi stripped him of his shirt and started marking his way down his chest. With one hand Daichi fumbled for the lube that was stashed under the pillow, and with the other he started working at Terushima’s cock again, feeling it slowly harden in his grip. “Daichi let me- let me touch you.”

 

Terushima reached out for him, just grazing against Daichi’s cock before he awoke with a start. He stared at the ceiling in the dark, chest heaving and heart racing, shivering with the aftershocks of an orgasm he hadn’t seen coming. Then he stared at the ceiling for a little bit longer, just to drive home his own self-hatred. By the time he dragged himself out of bed to deal with the mess in his boxers, he was utterly convinced that there was no way he was going to survive the coming day.

 

-

 

Daichi woke late the next morning, and for a moment he considered just staying where he was. But Akaashi had a key to his apartment, and no qualms about using it. So he dragged himself out of his bed half an hour after he was supposed to be at work and slumped over to the dresser where his phone was blinking with notifications.

 

AKAASHI: [Daichi I need you to come into work today.]

 

AKAASHI: [You’re off the hook on having to deal with him, but I need you to come in.]

 

AKAASHI: [You have twenty minutes to respond, or I’m giving Bokuto my key and sending him to collect you.]

 

The most recent text was marked as seventeen minutes old. Daichi sighed and closed his eyes for a moment before responding.

 

ME: [Im coming dont worry]

 

ME: [But what do you mean I wont have to deal with him]

 

AKAASHI: [I mean he is not coming in to work today. He is taking today and the remainder of the weekend to get settled in his new apartment.]

 

AKAASHI: [Which, incidentally, is why I need you to come in as soon as possible.]

 

ME: [I dont get it]

 

ME: [Akaashi what do you mean]

 

ME: [Akaashi]

 

Daichi swore at the utter lack of response. Whatever Akaashi meant, it did not bode well if Daichi didn’t do as he was told. He pulled a shirt and some jeans out of his dresser, not really paying attention to what it was, and pulled them on in a groggy daze. The apartment was already empty when he shuffled out of his room, but there was a travel cup of coffee in the microwave and a cheery note from Noya reminding him not to expect him home that night. Daichi smiled faintly as he took the coffee, taking a deep breath to steel himself against the day. He straightened his shoulders and walked out of his apartment-

 

-and right into someone carrying a stack of boxes.

 

“Shit,” Daichi hissed, trying to salvage the person or the boxes or the coffee and fumbling all three. “Are you okay?”

 

“Fine,” groaned the person on the floor. They shoved one of the boxes away to reveal a man of roughly Daichi’s age, with longish black hair and big blue eyes narrowed in a strange combination of pain and boredom.

 

“I am so sorry,” Daichi gushed, reaching down to help the man up. He grimaced at the sight of the coffee Daichi had spilled all over him. “God this is about the worst first impression ever.” Daichi’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he ignored it.

 

“It’s not the best,” the man agreed. Daichi laughed pitifully and held out a hand.

 

“Sawamura Daichi,” he said. “I think you’ve already met my roommate, Noya?” The man grimaced.

 

“Kunimi Akira,” he said simply, shaking Daichi’s hand. “My roommate is-”

 

“KUNIMI ARE YOU OKAY?” The door to the apartment next to Daichi’s swung open and Terushima appeared, because Daichi’s life wasn’t enough of a joke already. “I heard a crash and…”

 

“And what, counted to a hundred before coming to see if I was dead?” Kunimi asked. Terushima didn’t answer, too busy staring at Daichi while Daichi stared back.

 

“Dai- Sawamura,” Terushima stuttered, and _god,_ did it hurt to hear his name on that voice.

 

“Terushima,” Daichi answered. It was quiet, barely more than a whisper, and he cleared his throat. “I- you…” he trailed off, still staring. Why was he still staring? And why was Terushima still staring back?

 

“So if all you two are gonna do is wallow in this sexual tension, I’m gonna go.” Daichi jumped at the sound of Kunimi’s voice, and ducked his head sheepishly. His phone buzzed again. Kunimi ducked between them and walked into his apartment, leaving Terushima and Daichi alone with the boxes and the painful awkwardness. Daichi looked at Terushima, at the new color in his hair and the glint of his piercings and the curling edge of his tattoos. He was wearing a t shirt that was just a little baggy on him, and sweatpants slung low on his hips. There was a strip of skin between the two, one that Daichi had been intimately familiar with once, one that he wanted to reach out and draw his fingertips along now. Daichi’s phone started buzzing in earnest. He tore his eyes away at last, digging his phone out of his pocket and wincing at Akaashi’s contact photo on the screen.

 

“Akaashi-” he started.

 

“Daichi, you didn’t listen to me, did you?” Akaashi groaned. “You didn’t leave when I told you to and now you’re stuck, aren’t you?” Daichi didn’t glance at Terushima, but it was a near thing.

 

“Maybe?” he tried.

 

“I tried to save you,” Akaashi sighed. “I tried to do you a courtesy. This is why I’m not a giving person, you know. It never works out.”

 

“Akaashi, is there-”

 

“No, don’t try that bullshit with me, Daichi,” Akaashi interrupted. “Just get your ass down to the studio right this second.”

 

Daichi tried to reply, but Akaashi had already hung up. He sighed, stowing his phone, and glanced at Terushima. “Sorry,” he said quietly. “I- work.”

 

“Y-yeah,” Terushima said. “’Course. I’ll… later?” Daichi nodded and bit his lip.

 

“Later,” he agreed. He paused for a moment later, then stepped around the boxes and took off toward the elevator. He waited until the doors closed behind him and the elevator started moving before he buried his face in his hands and let out a whine.

 

-

 

Yuuji had no idea how long he stood there staring at the place where Daichi had disappeared, but it was long enough that Kunimi came out to look for him. He leaned against the wall for a moment, his most judgmental stare firmly in place. He had changed his shirt and pulled his hair up off his neck, which only seemed to make the sarcasm in his eyes worse.

 

“I’ll… later,” he sneered. “Do you even know how words work?”

 

“Shut up,” Yuuji snapped, bending down to pick up one of the fallen boxes. “Like you would do any better if you ran into your shitty ex.”

 

“That was your shitty ex?” Kunimi asked, his eyes growing wide and concerned. “The one who-”

 

“Yes, that one,” Yuuji interrupted. He handed Kunimi a box and lifted the rest himself.

 

“He’s our neighbor,” Kunimi pointed out.

 

“I noticed that,” Yuuji snarled. “Yay for him. He also works at the modeling agency I just signed on with, so double yay.”

 

“That’s hilarious,” Kunimi said dully as he set the box down in their living room.

 

“Why am I friends with you?” grumbled Yuuji.

 

“Because someone needs to balance you and Ryuu out,” Kunimi replied. “He’ll be here in like an hour, by the way.”

 

“Great,” Yuuji muttered. “He can help me bring the rest of the furniture up, since we all know _you_ _’re_ not going to be any help with that.” Kunimi didn’t move from where he was half-draped across a stack of boxes. “Seriously, what are you good for?” Yuuji muttered as he opened the box with his clothes and started digging through it for something to wear while he worked.

 

Kunimi did help, some, with bringing the boxes out of the truck and up to the apartment, and with clearing paths wide enough for the furniture to go through later. Still, when Tanaka arrived, he was lying flat on his back in the middle of the living room, eyes closed and hands folded behind his head.

 

“I thought you said you were gonna make sure he pulls his weight today,” Tanaka said as he dumped his bag on the counter.

 

“He was a bit busy,” Kunimi called. “We met our new neighbor this morning.”

 

“Oh?” Tanaka asked, leering at Yuuji. “Were they hot?”

 

“He was pretty hot,” Kunimi answered for him. “He was also the shitty ex.” Tanaka froze, looking at Kunimi. He walked woodenly out of the apartment and stood across the hall, staring at the door and the one next to it. Yuuji followed him into the hall, watching the dawning horror on his face.

 

“Shit,” he whispered. “Shit, that’s Noya and Daichi’s apartment, isn’t it?”

 

“Wait, Daichi as in your boyfriend’s roommate Daichi?” Kunimi asked, sitting up now. “How did you not make that connection?”

 

“I don’t know!” Tanaka shouted. “I’ve only been over like once! He usually comes to mine or Asahi’s!”

 

“Wait, you mean you knew he was the same person?” Yuuji asked.

 

“Yeah?” Tanaka said. “Pretty sure I told you that. And then you made me promise I would never let him find you, and then you hurled into a fountain, so in hindsight you were probably too drunk to remember that conversation, but regardless, I am so sorry, Yuuji, I-”

 

“Ryuu.” Tanaka’s mouth closed with a click as Yuuji dropped a hand on either of his shoulders. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t tell you where the apartment was before I signed the lease, so there was no way for you to make the connection.”

 

“But I _promised_ ,” Tanaka said miserably. “I promised I wouldn’t let him hurt you again, and I fucked it up.”

 

“He hasn’t hurt me again,” Yuuji said. “And he won’t. I’m not the same person I was last time. I’ve grown.”

 

“Yeah, now he hurts himself!” Kunimi called. Tanaka’s eyes widened, then narrowed, roving over Yuuji’s face.

 

“What happened?” he snarled. Yuuji went to answer, but Kunimi beat him to it.

 

“So shitty ex knocked me over, and Yuuji came out to see what the commotion was and then they just stood there staring intensely at each other. And then shitty ex got a call from work and when he went to go, they both started stammering at each other, it was great.” A smile crackled in the corners of Tanaka’s eyes, though he kept his expression stern.

 

“What did he say to you,” he demanded.

 

“Nothing,” Yuuji replied. “He said he had to go to work, and then he left.”

 

“What he _said_ was ‘I- work’, to which our golden boy replied ‘yeah, I’ll… later’ like the brilliant orator he is.” The smile manifested fully, cracking across Tanaka’s face like a sunrise, and Yuuji resigned himself to his fate.

 

“Will you two stop gossiping and help me bring in the rest of our shit?” he said.

 

“I actually have to get to work,” replied Kunimi, rolling to his feet. “I’ll… later.”

 

Yuuji groaned while Tanaka cackled and Kunimi smirked. “I hate you both,” he muttered.

 

“Sure you do,” Kunimi replied. He bent to plant a quick kiss on Yuuji’s cheek, then swept out of the apartment while Tanaka laughed even harder in his wake.

 

“Come on,” Yuuji snapped, shoving Tanaka’s shoulder. “You’re here to work, not stand around looking adorable.”

 

“Who says I can’t do both?” Tanaka asked, hip checking Yuuji out of the way of the door. Yuuji rolled his eyes and chased after him, shoving that morning to the back of his mind.

 

It was later, when they had finished hauling the last of Yuuji and Kunimi’s things into place and were collapsed on the couch, that Tanaka brought it up. Yuuji was sprawled face-down in Tanaka’s lap with Tanaka’s fingers running through his hair, just on the cusp of a catnap.

 

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay living here?” Tanaka asked softly. Yuuji thought for a moment about pretending to be asleep already. He knew Tanaka would know better, but he would let him get away with it regardless. He sighed, rubbing his cheek on the soft fabric of Tanaka’s sweatpants.

 

“No,” he admitted. “But it’s kind of too late. The lease is signed, the stuff’s all up here. And even if it wasn’t, I’ll still have to see him at work on Monday.” He paused, thinking back over all the stories Tanaka had told about his friend the accountant who wasn’t nearly as boring as he sounded. “Are _you_ gonna be okay?”

 

“What do you mean by that?” asked Tanaka. Yuuji frowned.

 

“I mean, he’s your friend. And it’s been okay up until now, because our social spheres are totally separate. But it’s gonna be a lot harder to not pick a side now.” Tanaka snorted.

 

“Dude, I’ve already picked a side,” he said. “I picked a side years ago.”

 

“But he’s-”

 

“He’s my friend,” Tanaka said. “And so are you. I’ve heard both sides of this story already, and I’ve made up my mind as to which of you needs me more. So. That’s that.” Warmth flooded Yuuji’s chest and prickled at his eyes and he whined wordlessly.

 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” he muttered. Tanaka barked out a laugh.

 

“Yeah, probably,” he said. “But if you need me, I can tell Yuu and Asahi, no problem. They’ll understand.” Yuuji smiled.

 

“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be fine for one night.”  


“You sure?” Yuuji sat up only long enough to get off of Tanaka before flopping onto his back.

 

“Yep,” he said, folding his arms behind his head. “Besides, I’ve got Akira. He may not be the best guard dog in the world, but Daichi’d be an inconvenience, and we both know how he hates those.” Tanaka laughed again, slapping Yuuji’s thigh as he stood.

 

“Okay,” he said. “But seriously, call me if you need anything.”

 

“Will do,” Yuuji called. “Now, get out of here, I’m sick of your face.” Tanaka grinned, swinging his hips as he strutted out of the apartment.

 

It was quiet, with Tanaka gone. Yuuji tried not to think about it, about how everything in his life had gotten quieter over the past few years. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying not to think about the fact that the wall the couch was pushed against was the one his apartment shared with Daichi’s. He dragged himself to his feet and grabbed a box at random. It would do no good to sit still and let his thoughts get to him.

 

-

 

There was nothing, absolutely nothing that Daichi could have done to prepare himself for the storm that crashed through the door of Asahi’s apartment that night. He was minding his own business, laying facedown on the floor with his head in Asahi’s lap and his feet in Suga’s and wallowing when the door slammed open and Tanaka and Noya stumbled in with a giggle. They stopped short at the sight of the trio on the floor.

 

“Uh…” said Noya while Tanaka swore under his breath. “Is everything okay here?”

 

“Everything’s great!” said Suga, and Daichi could hear the sunny smile he had plastered across his face. “Everything’s just wonderful!”

 

“Okay, Suga-san, who did you murder?” Noya asked.

 

“No one yet,” Suga replied cheerfully.

 

“I told you, you can’t murder him,” Daichi said, voice muffled against Asahi’s thigh.

 

“Oh, hush,” Suga said. “Anyway, I’m going to murder Daichi’s ex boyfriend.”

 

“Uh, yeah, can you not do that?” Tanaka asked. “It might get a bit awkward.” A sharp and dangerous silence settled over the room, emanating from the cold singularity that was Suga.

 

“And why is that, Tanaka-kun?” he asked quietly. Daichi lifted his head to watch Tanaka swallow nervously, then steel himself.

 

“’Cause I promised him I wouldn’t let you,” he said. “Or, well, I promised him something else, and then fucked that up, so now I’m making amends?”

 

“What do you mean, you _promised_ him?” Suga spat.

 

“Uh, exactly what it sounds like?” Tanaka stammered. “Look, Terushima’s my friend just as much as any of you. It’d be really shitty if my friends started murdering each other.”

 

“Your friend?” The word oozed from Suga’s mouth like poison. Daichi sat up fully, looking between the two of them and trying to comprehend just what was happening around him. “You’re _friends_ with him?”

 

“Yeah,” Tanaka said. “I am.”

 

“With the guy who broke Daichi’s heart?” Tanaka flinched ever so slightly at that, but in that flinch he steeled himself.

 

“Yes,” he said. “I am friends with the guy who broke Daichi-san’s heart, and whose heart Daichi-san broke as well. He’s a good guy.”

 

“Ryuu, he ruined Daichi-san’s life,” said Noya quietly.

 

“Trust me, Daichi-san ruined right back,” Tanaka replied. “Look, I’m not here to pick a fight or anything. I’m just saying that you both fucked each other up pretty bad.”

 

Suga was fuming beside Daichi, and even Asahi’s fists were clenched. Noya was looking at Tanaka like he didn’t understand what was happening, and Daichi knew that if he didn’t say something soon things would turn ugly.

 

“I get it,” he said softly. Tanaka started, staring at him, and he tried to offer up a kind smile. “You made a promise, and-”

 

“No!” Daichi jumped at the volume and the anger of Asahi’s voice. He turned to see Asahi glaring at his boyfriend, absolute rage written across his face. For once in his life, Asahi looked genuinely dangerous. “Ryuu do you not remember what he did?”

 

“I do,” Tanaka said simply. “I know the story. I know both stories. They’re both fucked up. Look, both Yuuji and Daichi-san are my friends. I’m not just gonna let people treat either of them like garbage.”

 

“You can’t do that if you’re on his side,” Asahi growled. Tanaka went very still.

 

“Who said anything about sides?” he murmured. Asahi crossed his arms.

 

“That’s what this is,” he said. “You’re either our friend - _Daichi_ _’s_ friend - or you’re not. It’s him or us.” Tanaka stared at Asahi. He blinked a few times and frowned. He stared some more.

 

“Okay,” he said quietly. The tension melted out of his body and he nodded.

 

“Ryuu-” Tanaka shook his head at Noya, and while he didn’t look angry anymore the calm on his face was somehow much worse.

 

“If that’s how it has to be, then fine,” he said. “If you manage to pull your heads out of your asses, you know where to find me.” He turned and walked away, closing the door quietly behind him. It was somehow worse than if he’d slammed it.

 

The room erupted into chaos. Suga was spewing every swear in his impressive vocabulary and Asahi was shouting right back, something about disloyalty and broken trust. Noya and Daichi were silent.

 

“Don’t worry, Daichi,” Suga spat. “We still have your back.”

 

“I’m not sure Tanaka doesn’t,” Daichi said, but Suga ignored him, getting to his feet and storming into the kitchen.

 

“If you need a place to stay for the night, you’re more than welcome,” Asahi said. “In the meantime we can figure out what we’re going to do.”

 

“Do we have to _do_ anything?” It was the first Noya had spoken since the explosion.

 

“Of course we do,” Asahi said, waving a hand. “We let him get away with this shit once. We’re not about to let it happen again.”

 

Noya looked like he wanted to say something, eyes darting from Asahi to Daichi to the door and back. But he closed his mouth with a click and shuffled off to help Suga with whatever mess he was making. Daichi took a deep breath and resigned himself to a long night.

 

“Hey,” Daichi said as softly as he could. He had waited until Asahi and Suga were busy arguing over movie selection to corner Noya in the kitchen. “You okay?”

 

“I’m _great_ ,” Noya replied, voice cracking with forced cheerfulness. “My boyfriends are in a bitter feud over which of their friends hurt the other more. What’s not to love?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Daichi sighed. “I didn’t want to put anyone in this position, I-”

 

“I know,” Noya said. He reached out to pat Daichi’s arm, a sad smile on his face. “You couldn’t have known this would happen.”

 

“Sorry,” Daichi said again, and how useless those words were. Noya nodded again as the microwave dinged. He turned away from Daichi to pull the popcorn out, and though Daichi wanted to reach out, he turned away. Noya’s pride was important to him, and this was not a time to demand vulnerability.

 

-

 

Daichi had no idea what to expect when he went back to work on Monday. Suga had threatened to follow him to the studio, but Tendou’s cajoling and the threat of losing his job saved them both that ordeal. It was a relief, but it also meant that now Daichi was standing in front of the studio with no backup and no escape. He walked through the door, alone.

 

The studio was exactly as it always was on a Monday morning. Models and assistants stumbled around in a drowsy haze, lingering as long as possible near the coffee pot and only venturing away when they were forced. Iwaizumi and Bokuto were probably the only people in the room who were awake, bickering quietly in one corner while Hanamaki lay with his head in one lap and his legs in the other. Oikawa was dabbing concealer onto the bags under Yamaguchi’s eyes and Tsukishima was poking lazily through the lenses in his bag.

 

Akaashi was standing in front of the set for the morning’s first shoot, talking softly with Terushima.

 

Daichi took a deep breath and adjusted the strap of his bag. He wouldn’t have to walk past Terushima to get to his office, just sort of near him. That was doable. He took a brave step forward.

 

“Ah, Daichi, there you are.” There was a warning in Akaashi’s voice, sharp enough that heads turned to face him in sleepy curiosity. Daichi’s heart stuttered in his chest and he turned as well.

 

“What’s up, Akaashi?” he asked, his voice too loud in the quiet studio.

 

“I need you to get Terushima-kun set up in the system,” said Akaashi. _I need you to pull your tail out from between your legs and be a professional,_ said Akaashi’s eyes

 

“’Course,” Daichi replied. He turned and didn’t quite look Terushima in the eye. “Right this way.”

 

The walk through the offices to the door tucked away in the back had never felt so arduous. The hallway was suddenly unfamiliar territory, waiting for him to trip up so it could devour him. The doors were gaping mouths, the windows eyes filled with judgment. And Terushima was a knife at his back, spurring him forward and leaving him desperate for escape. He reached the door to his office at last and pushed it open without a word, crossing to his desk and sitting down as if it were any regular day. Terushima sat awkwardly in the other desk chair, looking down at the empty wood. Daichi turned on his computer and the whirring groan of its startup did little to fill the oppressive silence. He tried not to think of the last time they were alone together, but the memories came anyway.

 

Hands digging into hair and scoring lines down backs. A desperate cry, a quivering spine. A hand, reaching, grasping, shoving away. An ultimatum, a shouting match. A curse as the door closed between them and the muffled sobs that followed. Daichi remembered it all.

 

His hands shook as he started the programs he needed, and he hoped Terushima couldn’t see his fingers tremble against his mouse. He still hadn’t said anything. Wasn’t he supposed to say something? Wasn’t he supposed to yell at Daichi, or at very least accuse him - rightfully - of ruining his life and breaking his heart? Was _Daichi_ supposed to? He printed out the form they needed and bent to pull it from the tray under his desk.

 

“Thanks,” murmured Terushima when Daichi handed him the form and a pen. Daichi pulled up his work email as Terushima filled it out, desperate for something to say. He read over Akaashi’s announcement of the new photographer contract and followed the link at the bottom on impulse.

 

“You know,” he said, staring at the website, “these photos are really impressive.” Terushima’s pen stilled for a moment, then the dry scratching noise started up again.

 

“Thanks,” he said again. A pause, too awkward to be called anything other than painful, then Terushima looked up. “I didn’t expect you to end up an accountant.”

 

Despite himself, Daichi chuckled. He looked down at his desk, awash in memories. “I didn’t really expect it either,” he said. “But Akaashi came to me one day and said he was sick of the companies he’d been working with, and that he wanted to start his own. But he needed someone who was good with numbers and _not_ Bokuto to help with the finances. So I dropped out of school and we started this place.”

 

“That’s… not what I would have expected, but somehow it makes sense.” Daichi’s head snapped up and he stared at Terushima, at the light dusting of color over his cheeks as he filled out the last few spaces on the form. He looked like an adult, mature and dignified.

 

 _That_ _’s because he is an adult,_ Daichi scolded himself. Terushima would be twenty-eight by now. “S-sorry,” Daichi stuttered. “I didn’t mean to ramble.”

 

“Don’t apologize,” Terushima replied. He handed over the completed form and his lips twitched into something that might have grown up to be a smile, if it hadn’t died in its infancy. “It’s nice to know you found something to be passionate about.” Daichi nodded dumbly, dropping his eyes to the page in his hands.

 

“Th-that’s all I need,” he said. “Please let Akaashi know I’ll get this put on file.” Terushima blinked, then nodded and stood. Daichi didn’t watch him leave the room, knowing full well that if he did he would break. The door closed between them and Daichi let out a sigh. He’d done it. He’d had an actual conversation with Terushima. One with complete sentences and coherent thoughts, and one that didn’t involve either of them shouting or bursting into tears.

 

It was a step.

 

-*-

 

The first time they had gotten together had been Terushima’s first year of college. Pure chance had brought them together, a collision of books and bodies in the library entrance. When Daichi had realized exactly who he had knocked over, all thoughts had come to a grinding halt and he had stared with his mouth hanging open. Terushima teased him for it later, when they were both drunk and too honest for their own good.

 

“You’re so solid normally,” he laughed. “Unflappable Sawamura. What would the baby crows think of you now?”

 

“Don’t you have anything better you could be doing with that mouth?” Daichi growled. Terushima grinned.

 

“Maybe,” he replied. “Why? Do you… like my mouth?”

 

“It’s annoying,” Daichi said.

 

“Oh. Well, in that case-” Terushima made to get off the couch. Daichi reached out, snagging him by the belt loops, and dragged him back down. He kept going, kept falling, until he was on his back and Terushima was on top of him, their faces inches apart.

 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Daichi demanded.

 

“To find someone who wants what I have to offer,” Terushima said. He raised an eyebrow. “Unless there’s someone here?”

 

Daichi didn’t answer with words. He just fisted one hand in Terushima’s ridiculous hair and dragged him down to smash their lips together. Terushima groaned, licking at Daichi’s lips, and when Daichi opened his mouth, he delved inside. Daichi hadn’t forgotten about the tongue piercing, but it hadn’t occurred to him just what it would mean. The little metal ball dragging along Daichi’s tongue and the roof of his mouth was sending lightning bolts of pleasure down to his fingertips and toes. He growled into Terushima’s mouth, gripping his hair harder and giving back as much as he got. He sucked on Terushima’s tongue, and with his free hand smoothed down Terushima’s spine until he could slip it under his shirt. Terushima pulled away with something too self-satisfied to be a gasp and smirked down at Daichi.

 

“You do have a bed,” he pointed out. “Unless you want to fuck on the couch like an animal, which I am in no way opposed to, mind, but-”

 

Daichi cut off his babbling by surging forward and sinking his teeth into Terushima’s neck. He laved at the skin in his mouth and sucked, drawing out gasps and harassed little cries from Terushima’s obnoxiously pretty mouth. By time he pulled away there was a decent red mark and Terushima was trembling. Daichi smirked.

 

“Sorry, what was that?” he asked. Terushima only huffed and sat upright, yanking his shirt over his head. Daichi took a moment to admire the grace of him, the lean muscles and smooth skin broken up here and there with metal and ink. He dug his thumbs into Terushima’s hipbones just to see if he would twitch into the touch - which he did.

 

“Preference?” Terushima asked as he dug his wallet out of his back pocket. Daichi hummed as he pulled out a condom and a travel packet of lube, sliding his hands forward to tease at Terushima’s button.

 

“Do you really think you could top me?” Daichi teased as he popped the button and dragged his fingers down the line of the zipper. Terushima’s hips twitched, but his expression didn’t change.

 

“That a challenge, Sawamura?” he asked.

 

“It might be,” Daichi replied, drawing his hand back up to Terushima’s waistband. “If it was, what would you do about it?” Terushima smirked.

 

“Simple,” he said, and then he was bending forward, leaning in until his chest was parallel to Daichi’s, hands running so gently up Daichi’s torso that there was no way he was putting any weight on them. Daichi forced down a shiver. “I’d fuck you,” Terushima whispered. His breath fanned across Daichi’s lips. “I’d fuck you so hard you couldn’t remember your own name, just _please_ and _more._ _”_ Terushima moaned the words, breathing them into Daichi’s mouth though he never let their lips touch. Daichi couldn’t suppress this shiver.

 

“God,” he gasped, closing his eyes and reminding himself not to cum in his pants like a pathetic teenager.

 

“You can call me Yuuji,” Terushima quipped. Daichi opened his eyes and stared at Terushima through his lashes.

 

“Well?” he prompted with a buck of his hips. “Are you going to do what you promised, _Yuuji_?” There was a flicker of lust across Terushima’s features, a darkening of his eyes and a gritting of his jaw. Then he was sitting up and digging his hands under Daichi’s shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it somewhere behind him. Terushima’s hands were everywhere, dragging along Daichi’s chest and down his stomach, gripping at his hair, clawing at his sides, digging into his shoulders. Soon his mouth was following the same path, and Daichi was an inferno of pleasure.

 

Terushima all but ripped Daichi out of his pants, palming over the fabric of his boxers. He yanked them down around Daichi’s thighs and plunged his mouth over Daichi’s cock.

 

Light and color and the universe itself erupted behind Daichi’s eyelids. He fisted his hands in Terushima’s hair and moaned, shameless. Terushima’s tongue piercing had felt nice in his mouth, but against his dick?

 

Daichi didn’t know how long he could last. Especially since Terushima seemed intent on sucking Daichi’s very soul through his cock, eyebrows furrowed in concentration like Daichi was a test question he was determined to solve. Through slitted eyes Daichi could see the way Terushima’s hips were moving against the couch, but then his cock was slipping into Terushima’s throat and Terushima was squeezing his balls in one hand and raking the nails of the other down Daichi’s stomach and Daichi barely had time to mourn the fact that he wouldn’t be getting fucked like Terushima had promised before he was screaming out his orgasm.

 

Terushima might have swallowed. Terushima might have cum. Terushima might have pulled out a tutu and recited the magna carta for all Daichi knew. By the time he managed to claw his way back to reality Terushima was digging through Daichi’s fridge, humming to himself. Daichi scrubbed a hand over his face and groaned.

 

“Oh, good, you survived. Do you have any eggs? I’m seriously craving an omelet right now.” Daichi peeled himself off the couch enough to shoot Terushima an incredulous stare, but it dropped from his face when he met with the sight of tight black briefs stretched across an ass made by the gods. He shook his head and rolled over to scoop his boxers off the floor.

 

“I don’t know, probably,” he grumbled. “Don’t you have something better to do than raid my fridge?”

 

“No,” Terushima said with a smirk. “Why, were you hoping to cuddle?”

 

He had. But he wasn’t about to admit that, not with Terushima laughing and waggling his eyebrows like that. “No, I was hoping you would _not_ be a fucking freeloader. Guess that was unrealistic from the get-go.”

 

“Guess so.” Terushima smiled, but it didn’t quite line up with his tone. He glanced at the clock on the stove and then at his phone sitting on the counter. “Shit,” he hissed, shoving the eggs into Daichi’s chest and lunging for the phone. “I was supposed to meet someone in, like, two minutes.”

 

“Oh, well-”

 

“Bye, Sawamura!” Terushima barely took the time to pull his pants on and grab his shoes before he was darting from the apartment. Daichi watched him go, not sure why his chest felt so empty.

 

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Bye, Terushima.”

 

-*-

 

Yuuji had been staring at the ceiling for twenty-six and a half minutes straight. He knew because he had been counting. It had taken twenty-six and a half minutes for Tanaka to stop arguing with Kunimi over what to order on their pizza. He stopped counting when Tanaka flopped onto the floor beside him with a groan.

 

“Why are we friends with him again?” Tanaka asked.

 

“Why, did he order pineapple again?” Tanaka only groaned in answer. “You do realize we can afford two pizzas, right? We’re adults now.”

 

“I did order two pizzas. But his will still be sitting there. With pineapple. And he’ll be eating it. And I’ll know, Yuuji, I’ll know.”

 

“There, there,” Yuuji droned, patting a hand in Tanaka’s general direction. It landed on his chin. “Since you have to suffer through that, why not pick the movie?”

 

“Whatever,” said Tanaka.

 

“Okay, that’s it,” Yuuji said, sitting up. “You’ve been moping all day. What’s up?”

 

“Nothing,” said Tanaka.

 

“Don’t lie to me.”

 

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

 

“Ryuu.”

 

Tanaka stared at him and he stared back. There was pain there, and something Tanaka didn’t want Yuuji to see. He sighed and flopped onto his stomach, wriggling around until he could drop his head onto Tanaka’s shoulder. “Tell me?” he whispered.

 

“It’s Asahi,” Tanaka sighed. “He found out I was friends with you and then just blew up.” Yuuji stiffened and tried to pull away, but Tanaka wrapped an arm around his shoulder and held him in place. “He told me I had to pick a side, either with them or against them, so I told him that as long as he saw it that way I would have nothing to do with it. And then Yuu got caught in the middle, so I’m just feeling like a shitty boyfriend lately.

 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuji said. Tanaka sighed.

 

“I told Yuu that I didn’t want him to have to choose between us, and that whatever he decided to do I’d support him. I really should have mentioned something earlier, but I didn’t think it would be this big a deal.” Tanaka chuckled. “I actually called Daichi earlier, to make sure he knew that I was still his friend and everything, and _he_ apologized to _me._ _”_

 

“I’m not surprised,” Yuuji hummed.

 

“Really? I figured you’d be about as ready to forgive him as Asahi is about you.” Yuuji shrugged and nuzzled closer to Tanaka.

 

“I mean, I didn’t want to be this close to him again,” he admitted. “But I think we’re both old enough now to know where we went wrong. It’s been long enough that we can be professionals about this.”

 

“Do you have to?” Kunimi appeared in the doorway with a displeased wrinkle to his nose. “I’d much rather be petty and immature.”

 

“You don’t have the energy to be petty and immature,” Yuuji pointed out. “Besides, the guy I knew was nineteen, not twenty-nine. He’s probably a whole different person now.”

 

“I remember what Daichi-san was like in high school,” Tanaka said. “We kind of lost contact for a while, until after you guys had already broken up, but I wouldn’t have expected him to pull the shit he did. He’s a good guy, really.”

 

“Whatever, quitters,” muttered Kunimi. “Since Ryuu hasn’t picked a movie yet, we’re watching one of mine.”

 

“Akira, _no!_ ” cried Tanaka. Yuuji dropped hard to the floor when Tanaka bolted to his feet in an attempt to prevent Kunimi from reaching the dvd player. He watched them wrestle with something not quite resembling happiness floating around his chest. That night he lay on the couch with Tanaka sprawled across his chest and pretended he couldn’t hear the sound of Nishinoya coming home. He closed his eyes and tried to forget.

 

-*-

 

Yuuji wasn’t sure what he had been expecting after that first time on Daichi’s couch, but he had been expecting _something._ Not a single _I had fun_ text and then radio silence for two weeks. He never would have pegged Sawamura Daichi, reliable captain of the Karasuno men’s volleyball team, to be a one-night-stand kind of guy.

 

He also never would have expected him to be here, in the kind of club where people went to get smashed and then go home with someone they would probably regret in the morning. Yuuji sat at the bar with a glass of who-knew-what half-finished in his hand, watching Daichi grind against some twenty-something, head thrown back as he moved in time with the music. Daichi wasn’t of age yet, which meant he had used a fake id to get in. Just like Yuuji had. Yuuji wondered if the guy grabbing his hips and leaning in to whisper in his ear knew that. He wondered if he would care.

 

Probably not. Not when Daichi looked so good under the strobe lights, sweat pouring down his body and glistening on his sun-warm skin. He was wearing pants that did sinful things for his thighs and ass, and a crop top with what Yuuji was pretty sure said something obscene in English across the front. His hair was a tousled mess and he kept running his hands through it and messing it up more.

 

Yuuji was pretty sure he was wearing eyeliner.

 

The song changed and the guy Daichi was dancing with whispered something in his ear. Daichi nodded and _giggled_ as he let the guy lead him away by the hand. Yuuji watched them all the way out of the club, then stared at the door a little longer. He pulled on his coat and glanced at his half-finished drink. It had been the only one he’d gotten, even though he had planned not to remember that night.

 

“Where’s a pretty thing like you going in such a hurry?” Yuuji looked over his shoulder at the man, a mountain of muscle with the kind of hair that took hours to style. He looked like the kind of guy who liked it fast and dirty, and then never spoken of again. He looked like everything Daichi looked like he wasn’t.

 

“That depends,” Yuuji said, leaning against the bar. He cocked a hip out and let his eyelids slide half-shut. “Where’re you taking me?”

 

Yuuji got exactly what he expected out of the rest of that evening, which was a mostly-satisfying fuck and a deeply unsatisfying walk home. He was too sober.

 

He was halfway to his dorm when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, mostly disinterested, until he saw the contact name.

 

SAWAMURA: [cant stop thinkign about that night]

 

Yuuji was definitely too sober.

 

ME: [I can’t either]

 

He bit his lip and closed his eyes and spent a moment just hating himself before he pressed the send button.

 

SAWAMURA: [can i see you again sometime]

 

SAWAMURA: [but right this time]

 

SAWAMURA: [like coffee or something i dont know]

 

Yuuji’s fingers shook and he couldn’t help but smile as he typed out a reply. He walked home in better company and spirits both.

 

-*-

 

Daichi felt like he was standing on the very edge of a precipice, just waiting for the wind to tip him over. Every day at work for nearly two months, he was perfectly civil and professional. He walked in, said hello to his friends and coworkers, and retreated to his office. He could feel the tension in the air whenever he was in the same room as Terushima, and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone called them on it.

 

He just didn’t expect it to be Terushima himself. He looked up at the quiet knock on his door, only to freeze when he realized who had done the knocking. “Terushima,” he said brilliantly. “Uh, come in. What- what can I do for you?”

 

Terushima shut the door carefully before he walked across the room. He sat at the empty desk with equal care and folded his hands on his lap. He stared at the desk for a handful of seconds, then deliberately looked Daichi in the eye.

 

“I think,” he said, slowly and carefully, “that in order to maintain a professional working environment, you and I should talk about a few things. Clear the air.” Daichi stared at him.

 

“Okay,” he said. He turned off his computer monitor and set down his pen. “I, um.”

 

“I’ll go first?” Terushima offered with that half-kind-half-bemused smile of his. Daichi found himself smiling back.

 

“Yeah, if you want,” he said. Terushima nodded and the smile slipped away. He looked down at his hands.

 

“What happened between us,” he said softly, then looked up. “What happened between us happened. We both did some things that were wrong, and we both handled it poorly, and we can’t just pretend it didn’t happen. But.” The line of Terushima’s shoulders grew tense for a moment then relaxed. “It happened ten years ago. Neither of us is the same person we were back then. So, if you’re willing to put it behind you and start over, then I am too.”

 

Daichi stared at Terushima. Under all the little changes, the dye in his hair and the silver in his nose, the older, sharper line of his jaw, Daichi could just make out the same kid who had ruined him - and who he had ruined in return. Before they had done everything they could to hurt one another, Daichi and Terushima had been friends. If there was even the slightest chance they could have that again…

 

“I think that sounds amazing,” Daichi said at long last. He could feel himself start to grin as he stuck his hand out across the desks. “My name’s Sawamura Daichi, and I’m the head accountant here at Snarks and Snails.”

 

“ _Snarks and Snails?_ ” Terushima repeated as he shook Daichi’s hand. Daichi tried not to notice how strong Terushima’s hand was, or how rough and calloused. He rubbed at the back of his neck.

 

“Yeah, that’s Bokuto’s nickname for this place,” he said. “Akaashi’s Snarks and I’m Snails.”

 

“Why is that?” Terushima was grinning. It was nice, so very nice to see.

 

“Well I’m sure you can figure out Akaashi. I’m Snails because of how long it takes me to do anything.” Daichi scooted back in his chair and pulled his legs to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. “See, when we first started out, Akaashi was used to Bokuto, who can balance an account in his head in like two seconds flat. But since he never shows his work, it was hard to keep track of what had been done already, and to go back and double check it. So Akaashi had me start on it because I’m just as good with numbers as Bokuto, but I write everything down. Problem is, it took me three days to do the first book, because I triple-checked everything I did. Akaashi was pissed at first, but it wasn’t like any of our other friends could do it as well, and we couldn’t afford to hire an outside accountant. So, Snails.”

 

“Three days though?” Terushima laughed. Daichi shrugged.

 

“I like to be thorough,” he said. “And it paid off. At one point we got caught up in a fraud issue with the previous owner of this building, trying to say we weren’t paying rent. But when the bank came in to check our records against his and theirs, they found out that he’d actually been charging us for the mortgage but then not paying the bank. He ended up in jail for fraud, and Akaashi took over the title to the building. I had it paid off in three years and now it’s Akaashi’s free and clear.” Terushima smiled at him.

 

“That’s the Sawamura I remember,” he murmured. With that same quiet look on his face, he stood. “I should go before they start hunting for me. I look forward to working with you, Daichi.”

 

“You too,” Daichi breathed, and Terushima was gone, leaving the door open in his wake. Daichi had a spare moment to try and catch his breath before Akaashi appeared in the doorway.

 

“So I take it you two have worked everything out,” he said.

 

“Did you send him in here?” Daichi asked. Akaashi smirked.

 

“Nope,” he said, popping the word like a piece of chewing gum. “He came in here all on his own.”

 

“Then why are you _gloating_?” Daichi asked as he turned his computer back on.

 

“Not gloating,” Akaashi said. “Just reveling in the I-told-you-sos that are coming my way.” Daichi grunted. He didn’t look up as Akaashi crossed the room and flopped into the empty desk’s chair, kicking his feet up onto the empty desk. “I should really do something with this,” he hummed.

 

“What, like hire another accountant?” Daichi asked.

 

“That would make things faster,” Akaashi commented.

 

“Nope,” Daichi replied. “It would only mean I’d have to check their work as well as my own.”

 

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

 

“Love you too.”

 

Akaashi was smiling when Daichi looked up at last. “I’m glad,” he said softly. “I had a feeling you two would be able to work it out.”

 

“Well, tell that to Suga,” Daichi sighed. “I’m not looking forward to letting him know.”  


“Suga will be fine,” Akaashi said.

 

“He tried to have my last boyfriend arrested by pretending he’d stolen his own car. It almost worked.” Akaashi blinked once, slowly.

 

“Suga will probably be fine.”

 

-

 

Suga was not fine. As soon as Daichi even mentioned that he’d spoken to Terushima that day, Suga had thrown a fit.

 

“What did he say to you? I swear, I will kick his ass for you Daichi, don’t think I won’t. If he thinks he can just-”

 

“Koushi,” Daichi interrupted. “Will you please listen to the rest of the story?”

 

“Depends. Is he in it?” Daichi stared pointedly at Suga until he huffed and sat down, arms crossed and chin jutted forward.

 

“We cleared the air,” Daichi said after a moment. “We both apologized for the shit we’d pulled, and agreed to move forward and start over.”

 

“What on earth did _you_ have to apologize for?” Suga spat.

 

“Oh, gee, I don’t know, maybe the possessiveness and the commitment issues and the way I flipped out on him every time he so much as looked at another person?” Daichi droned.

 

“That was because-”

 

“It doesn’t matter why I did it,” Daichi said. “Point is, I hurt him just as much as he hurt me.”

 

“You sound like Tanaka.”

 

“Good,” Daichi said. “Someone should. He’s the only one around here who hasn’t lost their mind over this whole thing.”

 

“But he chose _Terushima_ over _you,_ Dai, over _us._ ” Suga had a murderous glint in his eye.

 

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Daichi said softly. He was aware of Nishinoya’s door, shut for the past three days when he had almost always left it open before. “I don’t think any of this is simple. And I don’t think Tanaka _didn_ _’t_ choose me. He just took stock of which of his friends needed him more.”

 

Suga stared at him, long, slow, and hard, like he was trying to pry Daichi’s every secret out of him. Daichi snorted. There hadn’t been a secret from Suga in years, not even a birthday present or a surprise dinner. Suga knew Daichi better than absolutely anyone.

 

“Kou,” Daichi said softly, and some of the hard edge fell away. Suga flopped over, his head in Daichi’s lap.

 

“I’m not happy about this,” he growled. “And I don’t think I will be any time soon. But if you think it’s what’s best, then I trust you.”

 

“That’s all I ask.”

 

“Whatever,” Suga grumbled, clearly mollified. “When it goes wrong, I’m still here to rip his throat out with my teeth, you know.”

 

“Duly noted.”

 

“You’re gonna be the death of me someday, Sawamura Daichi.” Daichi snorted.

 

“Tendou will be heartbroken,” he said.

 

“Tendou can get in line. You’ve been stressing me out since high school. I had black hair once, Daichi.” For emphasis, Suga butted his head against Daichi’s hand until he relented and started running his fingers through the silvery strands.

 

“I’m sorry for all the grief I have caused you,” Daichi said.

 

“You better be.”

 

Later, when the door at the end of the hall opened and quiet footsteps made their way out to the couch, Daichi pretended to be asleep. He shifted when Nishinoya climbed onto the couch, enough to wrap an arm around him. He pretended not to hear the quiet sniffling, or feel the way his shirt grew damp. There weren’t enough apologies in the world.

 

-

 

Watching Terushima work was a treat. In many ways, he was just like every other photographer they had on contract, but the models always walked out of his sets in high spirits. It had taken Daichi nearly a week to realize that it was because of the constant stream of chatter he kept up during each shoot.

 

All photographers did it to some extent or another, running commentary to keep the models posed correctly and the mood of the piece achieved. The difference between Terushima and Tsukishima, say, was that most of the models competed to make Tsukishima laugh, while Terushima found it a point of personal pride to get the models to crack up instead. Halfway through a cologne ad set Terushima got Yamaguchi to collapse into a fit of giggles by telling him a story about the dog his grandmother had had when he had been a kid. It was something about the deadpan way he delivered the story, something about the way there was no expression on his face but entire worlds in his eyes. Yamaguchi hadn’t stood a chance. Just off the set, Iwaizumi and Hanamaki were howling, clutching at each other and their own stomachs. Terushima glanced at them, and his eyes caught Daichi’s on their way back to Yamaguchi. He paused, and for just a moment the facade cracked and Daichi could see a smile. Then the mask was back in place and he continued his toneless tale.

 

“Enjoying yourself?” Daichi’s blood went cold and he plastered an innocent smile on his face as he turned to find Yui standing at his elbow.

 

“He’s a good storyteller,” he said, a little sheepish. She smiled at him, sweet as could be.

 

“I’m going to break his legs if he so much as thinks about hurting you again.” Daichi sighed.

 

“Michimiya, please don’t,” he said. “What happens between Terushima and I is our business. We really don’t need our friends watching our every move like this.”

 

“Oh, I’m not watching your every move,” Yui said. “You’re a big boy, you can handle yourself. I’m just telling you that I’m here to exacerbate the fallout.” She said it so sweetly, with such an earnest light in her eyes, that it made Daichi shudder.

 

“Am I going to have to put you on time out with Suga?” he asked.

 

“Sounds kinky,” she commented. “And no, I just wanted to make sure you knew I had your back.”

 

Daichi smiled at her. “I know,” he said, clapping her on the shoulder.

 

“Michimiya-san to make up, please,” called Oikawa from across the warehouse. Yui gave Daichi one more sweet smile, then flounced off to his station, humming as she went. Daichi shuddered.

 

“One of these days she’s going to snap, and we’re all gonna end up dead,” Bokuto said, lounging on a couch nearby. Yui waggled her fingers at him and he grinned. “Seriously, though, can we hire any more of Sawamura’s exes? They’ve all been gold so far.”

 

“There’s only one other, and he’s of no use to us.” Daichi did not jump out of his skin when Akaashi materialized behind him. He didn’t. He was only slightly startled.

 

“Will _you_ stop sneaking up on me,” he snapped, pointing at Akaashi, “and _you_ mind your own business.” Bokuto held up his hands in surrender, but he was still grinning.

 

“I’m just saying,” he laughed. “Michimiya’s great. Teru’s great. You’ve got some shit taste, letting him go.” Daichi wondered if Terushima was pretending not to hear them, or if he genuinely couldn’t. He hoped it was the latter, but the red tint on the back of Terushima’s neck didn’t leave much hope.

 

“Bokuto-san, go get changed,” Akaashi purred. Bokuto paled somewhat and scurried off to do as he was told.

 

“You don’t have to do that,” Daichi murmured. Akaashi sniffed and scrolled through his phone with an air of disdain.

 

“He was annoying me,” he said. “Now he is not. By the way, we’re all going out to that bar down the way tonight. You’re coming, and you’re staying and mingling for at least an hour.”

 

“Yes, Mom,” Daichi muttered.

 

“I mean it, Daichi. If I miss my chance to get that bartender one more time I’m going to cut off one of your fingers.” Akaashi said it simply, like there was nothing at all to it.

 

“You do realize I’ll only type slower if you do,” Daichi droned.

 

“A toe, then,” Akaashi said. “Some appendage of vague importance. Point is, you’re coming out tonight.”

 

“I already agreed,” Daichi said, shoving at Akaashi’s shoulder. “Want me to invite Suga or anyone?”

 

“Right, because _that_ would be a good idea,” Akaashi said, jerking his chin in Terushima’s direction.

 

“I mean, they’re going to run into each other eventually,” Daichi said. “We may as well let it happen in public, surrounded by friends who can call the cops or hide the body, depending on how it goes.”

 

“Are you two actively plotting my murder over there?” Terushima called over his shoulder.

 

“No, we’re planning what to do when the people who _are_ plotting it finally succeed,” Akaashi said.

 

“Am I getting murdered at the bar tonight?” Terushima nodded at Yamaguchi and started detaching the lens from his camera. “I thought you said it was just friendly drinks.”

 

“Just friendly drinks is Akaashi’s code for we offer enough business that the establishment looks the other way when he convinces the bartender to fuck him in the back room,” Daichi said. Akaashi smiled lazily until a crash had him groaning and marching off to see what the commotion was. Daichi swallowed around the lump in his throat and stepped closer to Terushima. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?”

 

“What’s up?” Terushima asked. He placed his camera gently in its bag and looked at Daichi. Daichi had to swallow again.

 

“I just wanted to apologize for any… comments you’ve been getting,” he said. “People mean well, but I’m afraid they may have gotten it into their heads that they need to… _protect_ me from you or something like that.” Terushima smiled, something small and sweet and reassuring, and Daichi swore his heart sped up, just a bit.

 

“I get it,” Terushima said with a shrug. “Honestly, it’s nice to see them being so loyal. But I mean, if you were to talk to any of my old friends they’d probably say the same stuff to you.”

 

“Probably,” Daichi agreed. “And speaking of old friends, I wanted to make sure you were prepared before I invited Suga out with us tonight. He’s. Well. Let’s just say he’s not going to be happy to see you.”

 

“I appreciate the warning,” Terushima laughed. “But I’m a big boy. I can handle vengeful best friends, believe me.” Daichi chuckled awkwardly and Terushima’s brow furrowed. “Is there something else you wanted to ask me, Sawamura?”

 

“I-” Daichi looked away, at the steady stream of activity threading its way through the warehouse. He sighed. “Is Tanaka doing okay?” he asked softly. Terushima looked sad.

 

“He’s not great,” he admitted. “I told him that I wasn’t more important than his boyfriends, but I think whatever’s happening is deeper than just me. He doesn’t really talk about it, and he’s always smiling and stuff, but I know it’s an act.”

 

“Do you think you could tell him sorry for me?” Daichi asked quietly. “I don’t want to make things worse than I already have, or I’d tell him myself. I mean, I did tell him once, but it’s been a few months, and…”

 

“Yeah,” Terushima said. “I’ll tell him.”

 

“Thanks.” There was an awkward pause while Daichi shuffled his weight from foot to foot and Terushima fiddled with one of his earrings. “Okay,” Daichi said, “so I’ve got some expense reports to go over, so I guess I’ll see you at closing.”

 

“Later,” Terushima said with a private grin, and turned to pick up his camera again. Daichi watched him for a moment as he set up for his shoot with Yui, then shook his head fiercely and strode away to his little office.

 

-*-

 

The next time Yuuji saw Daichi after that first drunken text was at a party some of Yuuji’s classmates were hosting. He was dancing, his arms over his head and some guy’s arms around his waist, twisting along with the music and the pulse in Yuuji’s veins. His black pants were far too tight and his shirt drooped off one broad shoulder and left a tantalizing strip of midriff exposed, and Yuuji wanted nothing more than to become personally and intimately familiar with that swath of golden skin. He downed his shot and slammed the glass down on the nearest table, then squared his shoulders and strode into the living room.

 

“Fancy meeting you here!” he called over the music. Daichi’s big brown eyes blinked slowly open and a hazy grin spread across his face.

 

“Teru!” he cried, voice soft around the edges. He tipped forward, frowning when he met resistance in the shape of his dance partner’s hands. “Teru, ‘m drunk,” he said, and promptly slumped against Yuuji’s chest.

 

“You are,” Yuuji laughed, catching him by the arms. He smiled at the guy who had been dancing with Daichi. “Sorry,” he said. “I think he’s had a bit too much. I’m going to make sure he gets home okay.” The guy looked like he was about to protest, but Daichi nuzzled at Yuuji’s shoulder and he seemed to let it go. Yuuji shot him one more apologetic smile, then wrapped an arm around Daichi’s waist and started leading them out of the house.

 

“Noooooo, where’re we going?” Daichi whined. Yuuji chuckled and adjusted his grip.

 

“I’m taking you home,” he said. “You’re completely shitfaced, dude.”

 

“Are you taking advantage of me?” Daichi gasped.

 

“Nope. As soon as we get there, you’re going to sleep.” Daichi giggled.

 

“What, you don’t want to take advantage of me?” he asked. “Not even if I want you to?” His hand wormed its way into Yuuji’s back pocket and he squeezed, hard. “You sure about that?”

 

Yuuji wasn’t sure how Daichi managed to turn his voice into sex incarnate, all smoky and gravely and wonderful, but when he purred the question into Yuuji’s ear and then leaned up to nibble on the lobe, Yuuji’s thin hold on his control began to slip. He took a deep breath and shook his head. “You’re drunk, Sawamura,” he said.

 

“So’re you,” Daichi argued.

 

“I’m tipsy,” Yuuji admitted. “But you’re gonna-regret-it-in-the-morning drunk, dude.”

 

“I’d never regret you.” Daichi’s voice, for that one moment, was completely serious and sober. Yuuji stopped under a street lamp and looked down at him. Daichi looked back, his eyes lidded and molten and his lip caught between his teeth. Yuuji wanted to be the one biting it instead. “Yuuji,” said Daichi, and the last of Yuuji’s resistance crumbled. He dropped his hands to Daichi’s ass and pulled him closer, leaning down to kiss him. He sank his teeth into Daichi’s lower lip and groaned at the taste of vodka still clinging there. Daichi let out a whimper and reached up to tangle his fingers in Yuuji’s hair, tugging hard.

 

“My place,” Yuuji growled when he managed to tear himself away at last. Daichi nodded, already reeling Yuuji in for another kiss. Yuuji closed his eyes and ignored the little voice in the back of his head that said this was a bad idea. After all, if Daichi wasn’t going to regret this, then neither was Yuuji.

 

-*-

 

Yuuji ignored all the groans and elbows to the ribs from his coworkers when he ordered a soda at the bar that night, brushing them all off with a grin and a distraction. Friendliness at work was all well and good, but this was the first time he was out with Daichi in a social capacity, and the last thing he wanted was a repeat of the last time.

 

Not that he thought something like _that_ was going to happen. For one thing, he had no plans to flirt with any of the women here, and for another he was pretty sure Daichi wouldn’t be dragging him to his apartment for an angry, possessive fuck and a torrent of shouting and a glass thrown at the wall, even if he did.

 

Still, better safe than sorry.

 

Yuuji was sitting at a booth with Bokuto, Iwaizumi, and Hanamaki when the temperature dropped several degrees and he got the distinct impression that someone was imagining ripping his spine from his body with their bare hands. He turned to offer Sugawara a nervous smile.

 

“Hi,” he said softly when Sugawara did nothing but glare silently at him. “L-long time no see.”

 

“The only thing stopping me from slitting your throat and dumping your body in an alley is the fact that Daichi directly asked me not to. If you so much as breathe in his direction, I _will_ break that promise and leave your desecrated corpse to rot beside a dumpster. Am I understood?” Yuuji could feel Bokuto gone stiff with terror behind him and Iwaizumi and Hanamaki staring in awe. He swallowed hard.

 

“Perfectly,” he said. Sugawara nodded decisively and turned on his heel to stalk up to the bar, where Daichi turned to face him happily. He took one look at Sugawara, then glanced hurriedly at the table where Yuuji was certain he had gone pale with fright. His shoulders slumped and he glared at Sugawara.

 

“I suppose it was too much to ask for any civility,” Yuuji sighed.

 

“Dude, you’re lucky he didn’t straight up murder you,” Bokuto wheezed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that pissed.”

 

“There was that time he made a grown man cry when he cut one of his students off in line for ice cream,” Hanamaki said.

 

“Kouta wasn’t allowed anywhere near that field trip,” Iwaizumi said. “Remember, he was banned from the school that entire year, after the glue incident.”

 

“I thought that was the year after,” Hanamaki said.

 

“Two consecutive years,” groaned Bokuto. “It was an honest mistake!”

 

Yuuji let himself be drawn into their conversation, speaking only enough to prompt more stories from the three of them. It never fully settled him down, not when he could see Sugawara sitting at a table with Yui, Daichi, Yamaguchi, and Oikawa out of the corner of his eye, but it did make him feel slightly less like he needed to call his mother and tell her he loved her. He took a sip of his soda and tried to resist the urge to look up at the feeling of eyes on him.

 

He didn’t succeed, but to his surprise it was Daichi who was staring at him. He cocked his head in question, only growing more confused when Daichi flushed and shook his head, turning back to face Yamaguchi instead. Yuuji gave a mental shrug and turned back to his own table, only to find himself stared at on that front as well.

 

“What?” he asked.

 

“I asked what was so fascinating about that table, but I guess we know what,” Hanamaki said with a smirk. Yuuji rolled his eyes.

 

“He keeps staring at me,” he said. “I was trying to figure out why.”

 

“Which one?” Iwaizumi asked. “Suga’s staring at you because he’s fantasizing about strangling you with your own entrails.”

 

“Never would’ve guessed.”

 

“ _Sawamura_ is staring at you like you’re an especially fucked up math problem,” Iwaizumi continued as though he had never been interrupted. “Which means one of two things. Either he wants to fuck you or he’s waiting for you to want to fuck him.”

 

“Of course he doesn’t want to fuck me,” Yuuji sputtered. “I thought you all knew what-”

 

“Yeah, he told us about what went down between you guys,” Bokuto said, waving a hand. “But think about it. This is the first time you’ve hung out in the same place, right? From what he told me, stuff like this always ended one way for you two.”

 

“I don’t get it,” Hanamaki said. Iwaizumi cuffed him on the shoulder.

 

“He’s saying Sawamura’s waiting for Terushima to get shitfaced and come on to him,” he said.

 

“Terushima’s not even drinking,” Hanamaki pointed out.

 

“And there’s a reason for that,” Yuuji said, tipping his glass in Hanamaki’s direction. “Now, if we’re done prying into my dark and tragic history, I wanna hear that story about the sparrow and Bokuto’s shoelace.”

 

Bokuto grinned and launched into the story with all the excitement he could muster, and Yuuji let himself get swept into it. He pretended not to notice the way Iwaizumi and Hanamaki watched him knowingly, and the way Daichi continued to glance at him. He got up a few hours later and walked home by himself. He dreamed that night of creaking beds and broken gasps and slamming doors.

 

-

 

Terushima was turning out to be nothing like Daichi expected. It stood to reason, of course, that he wouldn’t have the exact same drinking habits he had in college, but Daichi had been surprised to see him with nothing but a soda all night. It was nerve wracking enough to keep him close to Suga’s side, waiting for a switch that never came.

 

The last time Daichi had been to a bar with Terushima, there _had_ been alcohol involved, and lots of it. There had also been a girl in a red skirt whose face Daichi hadn’t even looked at before he had dragged Terushima out of there to punish him for some slight that might have been real and might have been invented. That had been the night when the last of the facade had fallen, when they had sailed past the last line left uncrossed and everything had come crashing down around them.

 

The memory made Daichi a little anxious.

 

But the night at the bar had come and gone with little fuss beyond Suga being Suga. Terushima had even left the bar early, entirely sober. It baffled Daichi to no end.

 

“Maybe he really does have no ulterior motives,” Nishinoya said quietly one afternoon. Daichi pulled his knees to his chest and leaned back against the armrest, ashamed.

 

“Sorry,” he said. “We can talk about something else.”

 

Nishinoya looked at him strangely. “Why would we do that?” he asked.

 

“I just figure it’s probably a sore subject.” Daichi looked down at his knees. “I’ve screwed things up for you pretty royally, after all.”

 

“Hey.” Nishinoya crawled across the couch and planted his hands on Daichi’s knees. “This isn’t your fault,” he said.

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

“Nope. This actually has very little to do with you, so stop being such a narcissist.” Daichi peeked up at Nishinoya, a little comforted by the smile he received.

 

“Is there anything I can do to make it better?” he asked. Nishinoya’s smile turned a little sad.

 

“Daichi, there’s going to be a fallout,” he said. “It’s not going to be pretty, and all three of us are gonna have to say and hear some stuff that’s gonna hurt. But if we make it through, and I think we will, then it’s gonna leave us in a much better place than we were before any of this happened. We’ve been together for more than ten years. I don’t think we’ll fall apart over something like this.” Nishinoya smiled for a moment. “So really, the only thing you can do to make any of this easier is to not worry about us and go be happy yourself.”

 

“That is the most mature string of sentences I have ever heard from you,” Daichi commented.

 

“It’s because I’m not getting laid,” Nishinoya replied, utterly serious. “I have to use this head,” he tapped his temple, “since the other isn’t seeing any action.”

 

“And you’re back.” Daichi grinned and Nishinoya grinned back.

 

“I mean it, you know,” said Nishinoya. “I want you to be happy.”

 

“I am happy,” Daichi said.

 

“Happier. The happiest of Daichis.” Nishinoya flopped onto his back and propped his feet up on Daichi’s knees. “I want you to be the gross, domestic old man we all know you were born to be.”

 

“And how do you propose I do that?” Daichi laughed. Nishinoya craned his head up to stare at him.

 

“By marrying Suga,” he deadpanned. “How do you think?”

 

“I’m at a loss here,” Daichi said. Nishinoya snorted and dropped his head back onto the couch.

 

“Typical,” he muttered.

 

“What is?” Daichi asked.

 

“Nothing,” Nishinoya hummed. “If you can’t figure it out, I’m not telling you. I’m too distraught over my own love life to sort out yours.”

 

“What love life?” laughed Daichi. Nishinoya didn’t answer.

 

-*-

 

Daichi didn’t know why he always had to be drunk to hook up with Terushima, but the idea of doing it sober scared the life out of him. Sober meant he was in control of himself. Sober meant what he was doing wasn’t some drunken shenanigan. Sober meant admitting that the tingling under his skin whenever he saw Terushima was more than a buzz, more than lust.

 

Sober meant admitting more than he was ready for.

 

But he couldn’t quite tear himself away, either. He craved Terushima like a drug, longing for him in every sense and every context. Drunken hookups were good for scratching the itch, but it always came back eventually. Lately, eventually was starting to mean a few minutes after one of them zipped up their pants and left.

 

He wanted so much from Terushima. He wanted to dig his teeth into Terushima’s neck and rake his nails down Terushima’s back, but he also wanted to trace idle patterns on his skin and hold him close and make him breakfast and watch him while he smiled. It was becoming distracting.

 

“Fuck, stop teasing me,” Terushima whined on what might have been the tenth or eleventh hookup. Daichi blinked down at him, unaware that his pace had slowed at all. He scrambled to make it look intentional, dragging a hand up the severe dip of Terushima’s spine and gripping the back of his neck tightly. He rolled his hips, fucking Terushima with slow, deep movements that made the muscles under his hands tremble with need. Terushima whined, high and wordless. Daichi gave one harsh thrust, just to hear the way his voice broke as he tried to sob something that might have been a swear and might have been Daichi’s name and might have been both.

 

“You look so good like this,” Daichi whispered, and Terushima shuddered. “Are you going to cum again? Are you going to cum for me, like the little slut you are?”

 

Terushima keened, pressing back against Daichi desperately. Daichi found himself distracted by the way the light of his desk lamp glinted in Terushima’s hair.

 

This was bad. He was drunk, he had his dick literally in someone’s ass, and yet all he could think about was how much he wanted to run his fingers through Terushima’s hair. And then he was doing it, stroking the shaggy locks in wonder. He caught himself and tightened his hand into a fist, pulling Terushima’s face out of the pillow. “Beg,” he ordered, and Terushima did.

 

After, when the earth had shattered and remade itself, when Daichi managed to pull himself, panting, away from Terushima’s shoulder and flop onto his back, when the ache in his chest had given way to the slow, ever-present burning again, Terushima got up and left.

 

Because that was what happened. No matter how many times they did this, no matter how sexually gratifying it was, not matter how much Daichi wanted and wanted and _wanted,_ that was what this was. They were barely friends with benefits, and yet there was Daichi, wanting more. It was pathetic.

 

It was also becoming obvious, if the look Suga gave him when he found out Daichi had slept with Terushima again was anything to go by. Even dulled by the distance and the shitty quality of Suga’s webcam, the look felt like a slap to the face.

 

“I’m hopeless,” Daichi whined, burying his face in his hands.

 

“You are, a little,” Suga agreed. “So what are you going to do about it?”

 

“I don’t know,” Daichi sighed. “I’m at my wit’s end here. I’m a desperate man, Suga.”

 

“Well, if you want my advice, there’s really only two ways you can go from here. You can either pull your head out of your ass and tell Terushima how you feel and be that gross domestic couple I know you’ve always wanted to be a part of.”

 

“Or?” Daichi droned.

 

“ _Or_ you can see someone else and move on with your life before one or both of you gets hurt,” Suga said. “But you can’t keep going like you have been. It’s not healthy, Dai.”

 

“I know,” Daichi said, miserable. “I really wish you were here. It’s way easier not to make bad choices when you’re already making them.”

 

“Thanks,” Suga muttered. “And anyway, I’ve got plenty of bad choices to make here. You remember that weird looking blocker from Shiratorizawa? The one that antagonized Tsukishima so much?”

 

“I remember that there was one,” Daichi said.

 

“He’s in my sociology class this semester,” Suga said. “And I swear, by the time finals roll around I’m going to have to either fuck him or murder him. One or the other.”

 

“I would recommend the fucking, but we’ve seen how well that has turned out for me.” Suga smiled at him, and for a moment, Daichi let himself feel the ache of being away from his best friend. He brushed it off as well as he could. “Have you heard from Asahi lately?” he asked. “He isn’t returning any of my texts.”

 

“That’s because he’s hiding from you,” Suga said.

 

“What did he do this time?” Daichi asked.

 

“Not telling you,” said Suga. “But keep bugging him. I’m sure he’ll cave in the next week or so. And if that doesn’t work, see if you can get to him through Ryuu. Anyway, I’ve got to go. Creepy Blocker-kun and I have a study date.”

 

“Use protection,” Daichi said. Suga waved him off and was gone, and Daichi was alone once more with his regrets.

 

Suga was right. What he was doing with Terushima wasn’t healthy, not in the slightest. What he really needed was to convince himself to move on, and in order to do that he needed to find someone else to occupy his thoughts. That wasn’t going to happen sitting around his room feeling sorry for himself. So he set his laptop aside and traded his sweats for an absurdly tight pair of jeans and a shirt that left very little to the imagination and headed out the door. He told himself he didn’t feel guilty as he made his way into one of the seedier clubs a few streets away from campus. After all, Terushima hadn’t made any commitments either. There was nothing at all stopping Daichi from going home with that brunet who had been checking him out from the moment he stepped onto the dance floor.

 

Daichi looped his arms around the stranger’s neck and willed himself to forget.

 

-*-

 

“You know,” Daichi panted, coming to the top of the hill at last, “there are several very beefy men here who could’ve helped me carry some of this shit.”

 

“Then they would be all sweaty and the pictures would not have come out right,” said Akaashi without looking at him. Bokuto clapped him consolingly on the shoulder. Daichi tried to set the bags down gently, but his shoulder twinged and they went hurtling to the ground with a crash. “Careful,” Akaashi droned.

 

“What’s even in these?” Daichi wheezed. He unzipped one of the bags and stared at it uncomprehendingly. “Akaashi?”

 

“Yes, Daichi?”

 

“Did you seriously just have me lug three duffel bags full of cinder blocks to the top of this big ass hill?” Akaashi turned to him at last.

 

“They’re green,” he said, as if that answered all of Daichi’s questions.

 

“My mistake. Akaashi, did you seriously just have me lug three duffel bags full of _green_ cinder blocks to the top of this big ass hill?” Akaashi nodded and handed Daichi a piece of paper with a rough schematic drawn on it.

 

“Have the others help you set them up if you need, but we’ll need seating for at least three of them, preferably five, on each side of the fire pit. Bokuto-san, if you would start setting that up here, we can-” Daichi didn’t listen to Akaashi’s explanation of the setup, too busy resisting the urge to shove him down the hill. Behind him, the others were catching up at last, laughing at some story Hanamaki was telling.

 

“Sawamura, you look like death,” commented Terushima. Daichi blinked at him.

 

“All of my friends are sadists,” he said. Terushima laughed, and suddenly Daichi felt lighter.

 

There wasn’t much to do once the scene was set up besides stand out of Terushima and Tsukishima’s way. The sun set and the fire was lit and Bokuto, Iwaizumi, Hanamaki, Yui, and Yamaguchi sat around it, laughing and roasting marshmallows. Daichi watched, trying to picture what the final shots would look like, but he couldn’t focus. Not with the firelight glinting off of Terushima’s piercings and warming the rich brown of his skin. Definitely not with Terushima laughing so hard he had to sit down at the sight of Bokuto losing a wrestling match with his marshmallow. And especially not with Terushima looking at Daichi, wiping laughter-induced tears from his cheeks, and smiling a soft, intimate smile at him.

 

When the shoot was over and the cameras and light props were packed safely away, Bokuto pulled Daichi down to sit between him and Yui, draping a thick blanket around his shoulders. The entire group was quiet for a moment, just watching the fire in the center of their circle. Then Bokuto spoke.

 

“The last time I was at a campfire was the last time I talked to my sister,” he said softly. Daichi leaned silently into his side and Hanamaki clasped their hands together. “She would be twenty now.”

 

“She would be happy you were able to enjoy it again,” Iwaizumi said. Bokuto shook his head.

 

“That’s the problem,” he said. “I’m not sad. I should be, but I’m not.”

 

“It’s normal, Kouta,” said Hanamaki.

 

“Sorry,” Bokuto said, grinning too wide. “I didn’t mean to bring everyone down.”

 

“Hey, we’ve all got regrets,” said Yui. “My biggest one is all the years I spent in business school, pretending it was what I wanted.”

 

“Mine is being friends with all of you,” Tsukishima droned.

 

“Yours is your relationship with your brother, Tsukki, don’t lie.” Tsukishima glared at Yamaguchi and Yamaguchi glared back. Tsukishima relented first. “Mine was how long I stayed in the closet,” said Yamaguchi.

 

“Mine is coming out,” said Hanamaki. “To my folks, anyway.”

 

“Mine is not punching Hiro’s dad in the dick,” growled Iwaizumi.

 

“What about you, Terushima?” asked Yui. Terushima laughed and rubbed the back of his neck.

 

“I have so many,” he said softly. He looked at the fire, but for a moment his eyes flickered to Daichi. “So many.”

 

“Me too,” said Daichi. “I have so very many regrets.”

 

“Let’s burn ‘em all,” crowed Bokuto.

 

“Let them all go with the fire,” Yamaguchi agreed. “I have some paper in the van if we want to,” he said.

 

“I’ll go get it with you,” offered Yui. She stood and disappeared with Yamaguchi down the hillside.

 

“I bet you anything they’re making out in the van,” said Hanamaki.

 

“They absolutely are,” said Akaashi. Terushima laughed, holding his torso tightly and shivering.

 

“Hey,” murmured Daichi. Terushima looked up and Daichi opened one side of his blanket. There was a brief moment where all the hesitation and uncertainty and terror hung heavy between them. Then Terushima shuffled over and allowed Daichi to drape the blanket over him, pressing close to Daichi’s side. No one mentioned it, not even when Yui and Yamaguchi came back several minutes later.

 

Yamaguchi scribbled something on a piece of notebook paper and handed Tsukishima the pad and the pen. He wrote something as well and handed it to Akaashi. Around the circle the paper went, gathering all the could-haves and the should-haves and the maybe-it-would-haves. By the time it reached Daichi, the page was nearly full. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Terushima pointedly looking away and he bit his lip. He found a blank patch and wrote _the man I was in college_ in carefully neat letters. He handed it off to Terushima and watched the fire while he wrote and passed it to Yui. She added her own regret and tore the page from the pad.

 

“Bokuto, would you like to do the honors?” she asked. Bokuto shook his head and she gave him a smile. “Okay, then,” she said, and threw the page onto the fire. “It’s done.”

 

Daichi watched the paper curl and blacken, wishing that was all it took to erase the past. But Terushima leaned into him with a quiet sigh that made him think that maybe things would be all right after all.

 

-

 

Yuuji threw open the door to his apartment, not quite hearing when it banged against the wall. He wrestled out of his shoes and slammed the door shut again.

 

“Akira?” he called, voice soft though he wanted to shout. “Please tell me you’re still awake.”

 

“I am now,” grumbled a voice from the couch. Yuuji slumped in relief. He glanced at the wall that separated his apartment from Daichi’s, then grabbed Kunimi’s wrist and dragged him off the couch. “What the hell are you doing?” cried Kunimi.

 

“Come here,” he said, “I need to talk to someone before my head explodes.” He pulled Kunimi down the hall and into the bathroom, the farthest place in the apartment from Daichi’s. Kunimi gave him an unimpressed look as he sat against the wall near the sink. “Okay,” Yuuji said, running his hands through his hair. “Okay.”

 

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on at any point?” asked Kunimi. “Because if all you’re going to do is pace, then I’m going back to sleep.”

 

“No, wait,” cried Yuuji. Kunimi blinked at him, waiting. “Okay. Okay, I-”

 

“Yuuji.” Kunimi patted the floor next to him, an order rather than an invitation. Yuuji moved mechanically to sit. Kunimi slumped against him, a comforting weight. “Tell me what’s going on,” he said.

 

“You’re not going to like it,” Yuuji warned.

 

“I don’t like anything. Tell me.”

 

Yuuji took a deep breath. It was one thing to think something like this, but to say it out loud would make it true. There would be no hiding from it once he told Kunimi. “Okay,” he whispered, and Kunimi elbowed him. “I. I think I have a crush on Daichi.”

 

“Daichi the shitty ex?” asked Kunimi. “Daichi who got unhealthily possessive and jealous and ended up ruining your life so bad it took years for you to stop crying on my couch whenever you got drunk or slept with anyone? That Daichi?”

 

“Yes, that Daichi.” It sounded so much worse when Kunimi put it that way, no matter that Yuuji knew all those things already. “Akira, I don’t know what to do.”

 

“It’s pretty fucked up,” Kunimi agreed. “But put it this way. You’ve changed in the past ten years. Now that you’re older and wiser and all that, do you objectively think that he is too? Or is he the kind of person who will fall into the same exact patterns of behavior as before?”

 

“I don’t know,” Yuuji admitted. “I don’t think so, but I think I might be biased?”

 

“Would you have given him a chance six months ago when you met him again?” Kunimi asked.

 

“No. I would’ve punched him in the nose and walked away if he asked.”

 

“So something changed. Getting to know him again made you get all feelings-y. I’d take some time and figure out what that something is.” Yuuji wriggled an arm around Kunimi’s shoulders and pulled him closer.

 

“I fell asleep on his shoulder,” he admitted after a long stretch of silence.

 

“Gross,” said Kunimi.

 

“He looked so good in the firelight. I almost told Akaashi we should add him to the shoot.”

 

“Even grosser.” Yuuji smiled, pressing his cheek to Kunimi’s hair.

 

“I’m pretty gross,” he agreed.

 

“You are,” Kunimi said. “I don’t know why I put up with you.”

 

“Because you love me.” Kunimi snorted, but he didn’t argue. He let Yuuji hold him there on the bathroom floor for a long while before he stood and pulled Yuuji to his feet as well.

 

Yuuji fell asleep to the memory of Daichi’s smile in the flickering light of the fire.

 

-*-

 

Daichi couldn’t go through with it the night he let a stranger take him home. Or the next night, or the one after that. No matter how many strangers he danced with, how many he smiled at and flirted with, none of them made him feel anything but guilty. So he stopped trying. It became abundantly clear that Terushima was the one he wanted, whether he liked it or not.

 

And he told him that. Somewhere between Terushima sucking his dick and him fucking Terushima against the wall, he managed to growl, “You’re mine. Only mine.”

 

He had a feeling Suga would not be proud. But things seemed to get better after that, sweeter. He and Terushima went on an actual date the next week, getting dinner together at Terushima’s favorite ramen shop before they went home and fucked for three hours straight. And that night, Terushima stayed.

 

“Your hair is so dumb,” Daichi murmured, running his fingers through it while Terushima lay across his chest.

 

“Maybe if _someone_ didn’t like pulling on it so much, it’d be more presentable.” Terushima’s words were a gargled, mumbled mess pressed against the skin of Daichi’s collar bone. They made him feel warm, so terribly warm.

 

“No, it’s dumb even when it’s styled,” Daichi said.

 

“Fuck you, Sawamura.”

 

“You just did.” Terushima hid his face in Daichi’s chest and started giggling.

 

Daichi almost said it then. He almost ran his fingers along the arch of Terushima’s cheekbone and whispered the truth to him. The truth that he was utterly in love with him, and that if he could, Daichi would stop time entirely just to keep Terushima in his arms a little bit longer.

 

But Terushima looked up at him and the words died in Daichi’s throat. He craned his neck to kiss him, and hoped that it would be enough to get his message across. From the way Terushima smiled at him, it was.

 

-*-

 

Daichi heard the fiasco happen through the wall in his living room and was prepared when the knock came at his door. “Hey, Sawamura,” said Terushima, looking disheveled and more than a little stressed. He was blushing. “Sorry I’m late, my-”

 

“Stove caught on fire, I know,” said Daichi. He grabbed Terushima by the arm and pulled him inside. “I made you breakfast. I already texted Akaashi, but eat quick anyway so he doesn’t have too much time to think up his revenge.” He sat Terushima down at the kitchen table and set a plate in front of him. Terushima stared at it for a moment, then at Daichi. “What?”  


“You made me breakfast,” said Terushima.

 

“Yes?”

 

Terushima shook his head. “You didn’t have to do that.”

 

“I had extra anyway,” Daichi lied. “Now are you going to eat, or do you want Akaashi to make us scrub the makeup stations again?” Terushima shoveled a bite into his mouth.

 

“This is really good,” Terushima cried, taking another bite. “When the hell did you learn to cook?”

 

“About three years ago?” Daichi said. “Akaashi was going out of town and he wanted to make sure I didn’t die of starvation. Which is ridiculous, since I could have just gone to Iwaizumi’s or Yamaguchi’s if I really needed someone to feed me.” Daichi shrugged.

 

“Well, he’s a miracle worker,” said Terushima. “The shit you made in college was barely edible.” Daichi chuckled, glancing at his watch. They still had a little time.

 

“Hey, I made a plate for your roommate too,” he said. “Would you mind running it over to him before we go?”  


“Congratulations, Sawamura, you just seduced my best friend,” laughed Terushima. “He’ll love you forever for this.”

 

“It’s not a big deal,” mumbled Daichi. Terushima took the plate and shook his head.

 

“It is,” he said. “And the fact that you think it isn’t makes it an even bigger deal.” He slipped out the door before Daichi could ask him what he meant. Daichi rolled his eyes, grabbed his bag, and followed Terushima.

 

-

 

“You two have the most comfortable couch in the world,” Daichi groaned, sinking deeper into the cushions. It was his and Suga’s bi-weekly movie night, but he was beginning to doubt his own ability to stay awake for it, too busy becoming one with the couch.

 

“We have the ugliest couch in the world,” Tendou muttered from the kitchen.

 

“I heard that!” shouted Suga, emerging from the hallway with an armful of blankets. “It’s not ugly, it has _character._ ”

 

“It’s character is pretty hideous, babe,” laughed Tendou.

 

“I’m gonna have to agree with him on this one, Suga,” said Daichi.

 

“Traitor.” Suga dumped the pile of blankets on top of Daichi and started sorting through them. When he had them arranged to his satisfaction, he climbed ontop of the armrest and wriggled his way underneath, tangling himself with Daichi. Tendou appeared with a bowl of popcorn which he placed on the coffee table. He bent to press a kiss to Suga’s forehead and then with a yawn and a wave he climbed the stairs and was gone for the night. Daichi waited a few more seconds before he sat up and looked at Suga. Suga returned the look with a flat “What.”

 

“I want to talk to you about something, but I’m afraid of how you’ll react,” Daichi said.

 

“Daichi, when have you ever known me to be anything other than the epitome of grace and understanding?” Daichi stared at Suga. “You used to be cute,” he huffed.

 

“Suga, I’m being serious. I’ve got a problem and I don’t know what to do about it. Or even what it really is.” Suga’s expression softened and he nudged Daichi in the shoulder with his foot.

 

“Go ahead and tell me, Dai, and I promise to try and stay calm.” Daichi took a deep breath, wrapping his hand around Suga’s ankle to ground himself.

 

“It’s Terushima,” he said, and to Suga’s credit, he didn’t even stiffen.

 

“What about him?” asked Suga. Daichi grimaced.

 

“Lately, whenever I’m around him, I keep feeling… weird. Like, physically.”

 

“Daichi, do I have to explain to you what a boner is?” droned Suga.

 

“That’s not what I mean!” snapped Daichi.

 

“Sorry.” Suga grinned. “Go ahead and tell me about this physical weirdness.”

 

“At least try to take this seriously,” Daichi muttered. He sighed. “Okay, so it started out with just like normal anxiety, right? Like, my stomach would hurt and my palms would sweat and my heart would beat faster and I would want to crawl into a hole and die. But then the crawling into the hole went away, and so did the stomach aches, but other stuff took its place.”

 

“What sort of other stuff?” Suga prompted.

 

“It sounds so dumb,” Daichi groaned.

 

“You’re almost never dumb, Dai,” said Suga gently. “Talk to me.”

 

“Okay, so instead of the pain, now my stomach feels weirdly tight? And like, warm. And my hands get shaky, and I think there’s something wrong with my eyes, because everything looks lighter around him?” Daichi buried his face in his hands and whined. “I don’t know what’s going on with me!”

 

Suga was quiet for a long stretch. Then he kicked Daichi in the shoulder, hard. “You are the biggest idiot I have ever met,” he hissed.

 

“Suga, what am I supposed to do about this?” Daichi insisted. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

 

“I know you don’t,” Suga grumbled. “Which is why you’re going to leave this to me, okay? Just try not to do anything especially stupid, and we’ll be fine.”

 

“Promise?” Suga laughed, poking at Daichi’s chest.

 

“Promise. It’s gonna suck for me, like, a lot, but I’m gonna fix it. Now, hand me the remote? It’s called movie night for a reason, you know.”

 

Daichi passed Suga the remote and grabbed the popcorn from the table, settling in for the night. Suga was warm and familiar on top of him and the movie was just awful enough to be hilarious and by the time it was over he had popcorn stuck in his hair from the fight Suga had started twenty minutes in. He fell asleep on the most comfortable couch in the world to the whisper of his best friend saying goodnight and the deepset exhaustion that came with knowing he was utterly and completely safe here. That he was safe with Suga.

 

-

 

Yuuji was in the middle of wrestling Tanaka away from his food when there came a knock at the door. Kunimi went to answer it with an exaggerated sigh and a slump to his shoulders.

 

“Hi,” said a half-familiar voice at the door. Tanaka went still under Yuuji and they both toppled to the floor. “I came to talk to Terushima-kun. Is he here?”

 

“Akira, no,” hissed Tanaka, but it was too late. Kunimi stepped aside and opened the door wider, and in walked Sugawara Koushi, there, no doubt, to murder Yuuji in front of his two best friends. He scrambled off of Tanaka, poised to get to his feet and run at a moment’s notice.

 

“Relax,” said Suga, holding his hands out in front of him. “I come in peace.”

 

“I’m not sure I believe you,” said Yuuji.

 

“I’m sure that I don’t,” said Tanaka.

 

“Is- is it okay if I speak to each of you, in private?” Suga asked.

 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Suga,” said Tanaka. “I’d feel much more comfortable if-”

 

“That’s fine,” Suga said quickly. “Sorry. I get that neither of you really trusts me right now.”

 

“Suga, I-” Tanaka bit off the end of his sentence, looking down.

 

“Actually, Ryuu, I was hoping you’d be here,” Suga said. He twined his fingers together nervously. “I wanted to apologize, for the way I’ve been treating you lately. I jumped to conclusions, and didn’t even wait to hear your reasoning. Your loyalty is one of the things I love most about you, but I’ve been trying to punish you for it, and I’m sorry.”

 

“I-” Tanaka blinked rapidly. “You- but _why_?”

 

“Because I was worried about Daichi,” said Suga. “I was mad. I wanted to protect him, and I let that get the better of me. I was thinking that there were only two options, and that you had taken-”

 

“No, I get why you did it in the first place,” said Tanaka, waving his hand around as if to clear Suga’s words away. “I’m asking why you decided to apologize. What the hell could’ve changed?”

 

“Actually…” Suga flushed and turned to Yuuji. “That’s why I was here. I wanted to ask you a question, Terushima-kun, and I would like an honest answer.”

 

“Go for it,” said Yuuji.

 

“What are your intentions toward Daichi?” Terror flooded Terushima’s mouth and he blinked at Suga.

 

“Is this a trick question?” he asked.

 

“No,” Suga said. “Whatever you tell me, I’ll believe. I just want to know if you plan on hurting my friend, or if you are a decent person like I am beginning to suspect you are.”

 

“I’m pretty sure it’s a trick question,” said Tanaka in a stage-whisper. Yuuji shoved him.

 

“I don’t really have intentions toward Daichi,” he said. “Unless you count just being his friend. I promise I don’t want to hurt him, though. Not again.”

 

“That’s all I needed to know,” Suga said, and he sounded relieved. “In that case, I need to talk to you about him. And he needs to never find out we had this conversation, understood?”

 

The no-nonsense Suga was back, the one that Yuuji firmly believed could and possibly already had ripped a man’s throat out with his teeth. He moved to sit on the floor across from Tanaka and Yuuji, face grim and back straight, like a general planning his next attack.

 

“I’m a bit scared right now,” Yuuji said. Suga smiled, and the fear only increased.

 

“What I’m about to tell you does not leave this room, understood? If it gets out, I will make sure you face consequences, Terushima, and they will not be pleasant.”

 

“Got it.” Yuuji watched Suga take a deep breath and look at his hands resting on his knees. He looked up with a fire in his eyes that pinned Yuuji in place.

 

“Hanamaki told me about the massive crush you won’t admit to having,” Suga said. Terushima opened his mouth to argue, but Suga continued as though he didn’t notice. “Daichi feels the same way, but he’s too much of a moron to realize that’s what it is.”

 

“I don’t have a-” Yuuji blinked. “He what.”

 

“You heard me,” huffed Suga. “So now, since I know you want him just as much as he wants you, we have to decide what we’re going to-”

 

“Hang on!” Yuuji cried. “Daichi doesn’t have a crush on me!”

 

“What part about what I just said implies I was joking,” Suga asked flatly.

 

“No, I don’t- that’s not what I meant.” Yuuji turned to look at Tanaka, desperate for a voice of reason. “He can’t,” he said.

 

“Why not?” asked Tanaka, shrugging. “You’re a pretty cool dude, after all.”

 

“Not what I meant,” Yuuji groaned.

 

“Well, what did you mean?” Suga sounded impatient. Yuuji pulled his knees to his chest and wrapped his arms around them.

 

“I mean, there’s no reason for him to even be my friend. After what I put him through last time, he should want nothing to do with me.” Yuuji dropped his forehead to his knees and sighed. “There’s no reason for it to work out that way.”

 

“But, he is your friend.” Yuuji looked up at Suga, stunned. Suga’s brow was furrowed like he didn’t understand why Yuuji was so upset by all of this. “I spent the past seven months trying to convince him not to be, but he is anyway. Why is it so hard to believe he can’t feel the same way you do?”

 

“Because I hurt him,” Yuuji breathed. “Because I put him through-”

 

“No more than he put you through,” Tanaka said. “You both hurt each other, remember?”

 

“Yeah but-”

 

“He’s right,” Suga said. “You hurt him about as much as he hurt you. So if you can put that behind you and want to start fresh, why can’t he?”

 

“Because I don’t deserve that,” Yuuji said.

 

“So what makes you think he does?” Suga asked.

 

“Because he’s Daichi. He deserves everything.”

 

Suga smiled again, but this time it wasn’t the harbinger smile. It was soft and fond and all-encompassing. “He does,” Suga said. “He deserves everything. Including the man he wants, and who wants him back. So, now we decide how he’s going to get it.”

 

-*-

 

It hurt, _god_ it hurt, to watch Daichi act like everything was fine. Like they didn’t tear themselves apart every time they were together like this, drunk and rough and pretending to be emotionless. He couldn’t count how many times he had started to ask Daichi for more than just an occasional drunken fuck, only to be cut off by Daichi’s hand down his pants and Daichi’s tongue down his throat.

 

It was too much to ask of Yuuji. All he wanted was some reassurance that he wasn’t the only one with an endless well of emotion in his chest. But it seemed Daichi didn’t feel the same way.

 

So when he showed up to the next booty call with another man’s hickie on his neck, Yuuji was unapologetic.

 

“Mine,” growled Daichi, biting down on the mark as he worked his hips against Yuuji’s. Yuuji threw his head back and screamed in pleasure, too far gone to pretend he didn’t wish Daichi actually meant it. He wasn’t even drunk this time, but the way his head was swimming and his vision was going hazy made it seem like he was. Daichi bit down on another spot, even harder than before, and Yuuji came across the sheets. Daichi kept thrusting through it, finding another unmarred patch of skin to mark. Yuuji hiccuped in overstimulated bliss, slumping against the mattress and letting Daichi do what he pleased.

 

It was all he ever did, really.

 

Two orgasms and a walk of shame later, Yuuji slumped against the door to his room, exhausted. He had wanted to feel something, anything, other than the gaping hole Daichi had torn in his chest. And for a while, with that other guy whose face Yuuji couldn’t even remember, it had worked. Until Daichi had come in and ripped the hole a little wider. He looked up and caught sight of himself in the mirror on the back of his closet door.

 

What had been one small hickie was now a mottled collar of bruises and bite marks. Daichi had left his mark on every single inch of Yuuji’s neck and shoulders, leaving him looking like the victim of a particularly violent mugging. He snorted and stuck his tongue out at his reflection. At least now he wore his addiction to Daichi on the outside, as well as the inside. With a sigh, he stood up and pushed his hair back, staggering over to his desk to start his homework.

 

-*-

 

“Remind me again why Bokuto couldn’t help you with this,” Daichi grumbled as he shoved another box out of his way.

 

“Two reasons,” Akaashi answered. “One, Bokuto-san wouldn’t know what he was looking for.” As soon as he said it, Daichi found the prop, an old glass lawn ornament they had used in one of their very first shoots. He dusted it off and brought it to where Akaashi was standing in the doorway.

 

“And the other?” he asked, handing the ornament to Akaashi, who grinned.

 

“The other is, I’ve been paid off.” He shoved Daichi, hard enough to make him stumble backwards, and slammed the door shut. The sound of a key turning in a lock filled the storage closet, and Daichi ground aloud.

 

It wasn’t long after he settled in against a stack of boxes before the door opened again and someone came tumbling into the darkness. They caught themself on a shelf above Daichi’s head, so close that their chest brushed Daichi’s forehead.

 

“Who’s there?” shouted Terushima.

 

“It’s just me,” said Daichi. “You okay?”

 

“Yeah, but I’m about to fall on you,” Terushima panted. Daichi shuffled awkwardly out of the way so that Terushima could regain his balance. “Sorry,” he said once they were settled in the dark of the closet. “I didn’t expect them to take this so literally.”

 

“Take what so literally?” Terushima laughed humorlessly.

 

“I talked to Suga yesterday.”

 

“Oh my god, whatever he did, I’m so sorry,” Daichi said. “I told him to leave you alone, but I guess-”

 

“Daichi!” Terushima cut him off, laughing. “It’s fine,” he said. “It was a perfectly civil and mutual conversation. He didn’t even threaten me much.”

 

“He shouldn’t have threatened you at all!” Daichi cried. Terushima laughed harder. “Hang on, is he the one who paid Akaashi to throw me in here?”

 

“I guess? I wasn’t informed of this part of the plan, but I guess it’s Suga’s revenge. Could be worse.” Daichi’s eyes were adjusting to the darkness, and he could just barely make out the self-deprecating smile Terushima wore. He shuffled a little closer.

 

“What plan?” he asked, his voice going soft without his permission. Some part of him knew that whatever Terushima said could change everything. He wasn’t sure if the emotion swirling in his stomach was dread or anticipation.

 

“Suga came to talk to me about you,” Terushima said. “He wanted to know what my intentions were toward you.”

 

“What is he, my dad?” grumbled Daichi. Terushima chuckled quietly.

 

“He did it because he hadn’t decided if he was going to give me his blessing to ask you out or not.” Daichi snorted.

 

“Right because I need his blessing.” It wasn’t until after the words were out that Terushima’s words got through to him. “Wait, what?”

 

Terushima took a deep breath before he looked at Daichi, and Daichi found himself wishing he could see him better. “Daichi,” he whispered. Daichi leaned closer. “I know that I hurt you before, that we hurt each other. I know I don’t deserve the kind of chance I’m asking for. But if you would let me, I’d like the chance to make it up to you and try again.”

 

“What are you saying?” Daichi’s voice cracked. His heart was pounding and his hands were shaking and he knew he couldn’t pretend to be naive to it any longer. Not if, impossibly, Terushima was saying he felt the same way.

 

“I’m asking to be your boyfriend,” Terushima said. “Not like before. None of the hooking up and the power games and the pretending we don’t want more. I want to go on dates with you, and spend the night cuddling, and argue over which way the toilet paper roll goes. I want to be a gross domestic old man with you, Daichi. I-” Terushima looked away at last, biting his lip. “I love you,” he breathed, so quietly Daichi almost didn’t hear it.

 

He didn’t notice when he started moving, didn’t notice crawling across the space between them and shoving a box aside so that he could kneel at Terushima’s side. He didn’t notice until he was reaching out, his hand hovering near Terushima’s cheek. “Yuuji,” he whispered. “Can… Can I kiss you?”

 

Terushima responded by leaning forward until Daichi was cupping his cheek. He closed his eyes and tipped his chin up and Daichi groaned at how beautiful he was, half-visible in the dark and clearly wanting.

 

Daichi hadn’t realized how much he had ached to kiss Terushima, not until their lips were pressed together at last. Terushima made a soft, broken sound and pushed forward. It was a long kiss, but a chaste one, and it felt endless. _Daichi_ felt endless. There was nothing but the feel of Terushima climbing into his lap, Terushima’s hair sliding between his fingers, Terushima’s hands clutching at his shoulders. There was nothing but Terushima, and in a way, there never had been.

 

Daichi kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him again and again until the door opened and the laughter of their coworkers pulled them apart. There was no shame in either of them as they walked out of the closet hand in hand, Terushima’s eyes alight with the promise of more to come.

 

-

 

Yuuji lay facedown on the floor of his bedroom, awash in utter despair.

 

“You’re being dramatic,” Kunimi droned. Yuuji shook his head, too busy mourning his life and all the joys it had brought him before this, the untimely end of all things. “Oh my god, it’s just a shirt.”

 

“It’s not just a shirt!” Yuuji cried, pushing himself up enough to glare at Kunimi. “It’s my one and only chance to impress Daichi. If I screw this up he’ll hate me forever!”

 

“Sounds like a pretty shitty boyfriend,” Kunimi said.

 

“You know what I mean.” Kunimi blinked at him, disgusted.

 

“Wear the red one. It looks good with your hair, and it shows off your waist.” Yuuji scrambled to dig through the chaotic pile that had once been his closet. He found the sweater, tugging it out with a triumphant yell. “Why are you so nervous, anyway?” Kunimi asked. “It’s not like anything could go more wrong than it did the first time.”

 

“No, but it could go as wrong,” Yuuji said as he wrestled his way into the sweater. He hummed, tugging at it here and there until it sat nicely on his torso, and looked up for confirmation.

 

“Perfect,” Kunimi said. “Go just like that. Don’t even bother with pants.”

 

“Hilarious,” Yuuji said. Kunimi gave him a lazy grin. “Why did I even bother asking you for help?”

 

“Dunno,” Kunimi said. “Ryuu’s much better at this than me.” Yuuji grunted, looking through the pile for the pants he wanted. “Seriously though, everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”

 

“Thanks,” mumbled Yuuji. “Okay, how do I look?”

 

Kunimi climbed off of the bed and picked his way over to Yuuji. He tugged at the hem of his sweater and ran his fingers through Yuuji’s hair and dusted off his shoulders. Then he stepped back and smiled. “Deep breath,” he said. “You look amazing, and tonight is going to be wonderful.”

 

“I’m scared, Akira,” Yuuji whispered. Kunimi bent to kiss Yuuji’s forehead. The gesture said everything that words couldn’t. Yuuji took a deep breath and nodded. He glanced at his watch and nodded again. Kunimi gave him a smile and shoved him toward the door. Yuuji went.

 

Daichi was waiting for him outside their doors with a picnic basket and a pair of kites under his arm. Yuuji stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of it. “What’s wrong?” Daichi asked, a blush creeping across his cheeks.

 

“Nothing,” said Yuuji, too quickly. “I’m just surprised.”

 

“It was Bokuto’s idea,” said Daichi. “But we can do something else if you want!”

 

“No, this is great,” Yuuji said. He took Daichi’s free hand in his and smiled. “This is wonderful.”

 

Daichi turned away, grumbling something unintelligible. The back of his neck was painted red as he tugged Yuuji out of the building and down the street. He led the way into a large park, pulling Yuuji down paths until they squeezed through a gap in some trees and found a private little hill. Daichi set down the kites and pulled a blanket out of the basket, spreading it on the ground with a flick of his wrist. Yuuji laughed and Daichi blushed and it was perfect.

 

“This is wonderful,” Yuuji murmured, a small eternity later when they had eaten and were laying on their backs, watching their kites bump against each other in the wind.

 

“Yeah?” asked Daichi. Yuuji turned his head so that he could see the dopey smile on Daichi’s face. “I’m glad.”

 

“You’re wonderful,” Yuuji said. Daichi looked at him, shock plastered across his features. Yuuji smiled, reaching up with one hand to tweak his nose. “You are,” he said.

 

“You’ve got it backwards,” Daichi said. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, you know.”

 

“I think it’s much simpler than that. I think we deserve each other.” Daichi smiled and Yuuji rolled closer to kiss it. His hand slipped on his kite handle, nearly losing it.

 

“Maybe we should pack these up,” Daichi laughed. Yuuji nodded, flushing. He sat up to reel his kite in and Daichi did the same. He was just tying off the end of the string when a pair of strong arms settled around his waist and hot breath fanned across the back of his neck. “Yuuji,” whispered Daichi, sending shivers up Yuuji’s spine. He turned to find Daichi watching him with eyes both hungry and worshipful. Heat chased electricity across Yuuji’s skin.

 

“Daichi,” he sighed. Daichi leaned forward as though ready to devour Yuuji, then stopped short.

 

“This is too fast,” he whispered, “but do you wanna come back to my place?”

 

“Fuck,” said Yuuji. “Fuck. Yes I do.” Daichi closed the distance between them at last in a kiss that was too short and too chaste. Then he pulled away with a grin and started packing up the remnants of their picnic.

 

-

 

Before, it had been the screaming that had done it for Daichi. The way Terushima had whimpered and moaned and let him know exactly how good he was feeling. The symphony of sounds he could pull out of him with little more than a touch or a word.

 

Terushima was quieter now. He was more intense, more focused, more determined to make Daichi shake apart, but he was quiet. When they reached their building and found Daichi’s apartment empty, Terushima crowded him against the door and bent to lay a line of tender kisses down his neck.

 

“Yuuji,” gasped Daichi. The basket and kites fell to the floor as Daichi scrabbled at Terushima’s shoulders. His knees were going shaky, only getting worse as Terushima nipped lightly at his earlobe.

 

“Which bedroom is yours?” asked Terushima, voice low and strained. Daichi groaned and tore himself away just far enough to drag Terushima down the hall and into his room. Once they were inside, Terushima kissed him again, walking them slowly over to the bed. He let Terushima guide him onto his back, closing his eyes and panting as Terushima climbed on top of him. “God, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” Terushima whispered, bending to kiss at his neck some more.

 

“I’m all right,” laughed Daichi. He ran his hands appreciatively up Terushima’s back. “Seen better, though.”

 

“Doubt it,” growled Terushima. “Can I take your shirt off?”

 

Daichi nodded, trying not to think about how that had never been a question before. How they had never made sure anything was okay before they did it. Terushima smoothed his hands down Daichi’s chest and stomach, pausing at the hem of his hoodie. He looked up at Daichi and waited until Daichi nodded before he slipped his fingers underneath and dragged the fabric up Daichi’s torso. Daichi had to sit up slightly to wrestle the fabric all the way off, flopping back onto the mattress once it was gone. Terushima sat back on Daichi’s thighs, just looking down at him.

 

“What are you staring at?” Daichi asked, resisting the urge to cover himself.

 

“The most incredible man I’ve ever seen,” Terushima murmured. Daichi whined, slapping his hands over his face.

 

“You can’t just _say_ that,” he cried. Terushima laughed, loud and beautiful, and then there was a soft, wet pressure against the back of one of his hands. Daichi’s heart stuttered in his chest as Terushima coaxed the hand away from his face and dropped a kiss to the the wrist, then up the forearm to the crook of his elbow. On and on he went until all at once he stopped, going completely still.

 

“This was me, wasn’t it?” he whispered, stroking his thumb along a spot where Daichi knew there was a long, thin scar.

 

“It’s from that night,” Daichi said. Terushima sighed.

 

“I don’t even remember what we were fighting about,” he said. “I know I wanted to make you jealous, and it worked. And then we were shouting, and I threw that glass, and you left and I lost my last chance to do right by you.”

 

“There was a girl,” Daichi said. “I don’t even remember what she looked like, just that she was wearing this red skirt and you were flirting with her. And I was so angry, because in my head you were mine. Even though I never even asked you to be, I just decided, and-”

 

Terushima pressed a kiss to the scar. “I’m sorry,” he said. Daichi shook his head, pulling his hand out of Terushima’s grasp to cup his cheek.

 

“I’m sorry too,” he said.

 

“Can we try that night over again?” Terushima asked. “We were on a date before, right?”

 

“I think so,” Daichi said. Terushima bent down to kiss Daichi’s cheek, pulling back to hover a scant inch or two above him.

 

“Let me do it right this time,” he murmured. “Let me treat you the way you deserve to be treated.”

 

“But you-”

 

“You can treat me next time.” Terushima grinned, darting down to peck Daichi’s lips. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to. We can wait, that’s no problem. But I really want to show you how much you mean to me.” Daichi saw it all in Terushima’s eyes; he was expecting to stop, to have Daichi tell him no. He was fully prepared to go along with anything Daichi said just then.

 

“Okay,” Daichi breathed. “Show me.”

 

Terushima leaned into Daichi’s hand, his eyes fluttering shut. When he opened them again, they were molten pools of desire burning Daichi straight to the core. He leans forward and Daichi expects a kiss. He closes his eyes and leans up for a kiss. But Terushima swoops aside at the last second to ghost his lips along Daichi’s jaw instead. “ _Beautiful,_ ” he breathed, like he was pressing a spell to Daichi’s skin. He dragged his teeth down to Daichi’s Adam’s apple, making him shudder and hiss with the electric pleasure rocketing down his spine. Terushima slid his hands up Daichi’s stomach and the shudders grew stronger.

 

Terushima kissed him like it was the very last thing he would ever do, long and sweet on every patch of skin he could reach. He worked his way slowly down Daichi’s torso, spending a considerable amount of time on his collar bones, his nipples, the dip in the center of his chest, and his navel. By the time he reached Daichi’s waistband and paused, Daichi was shaking so hard he thought he might simply fall apart.

 

“Daichi, can I?” whispered Terushima, punctuating the question with a kiss to the sensitive skin just above Daichi’s right hip.

 

“P-please,” Daichi gasped, canting his hips upward. Terushima chuckled and undid the button, pulling the zipper down slowly. He dragged Daichi’s pants down his legs and threw them somewhere heedless, turning back to face him with that same hungry expression. This time, he started at the bottom, lifting one of Daichi’s legs by the ankle so that he could press a kiss to the top of his foot. He switched legs when he had worked his way up to the knee and began the process all over again. By the time he nipped at Daichi’s inner thigh, Daichi had leaked enough precum into his briefs to soak them. “Yuuji, please,” Daichi sobbed.

 

“I’ve got you,” Terushima whispered. He reached out and gripped Daichi through his underwear, pumping softly. “You’re okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Daichi gasped, bucking into his touch. Terushima let go, settling his hands on Daichi’s hips and looking at him seriously. “Daichi, I need to know how far you want to take this,” he said.

 

Daichi resisted the urge to flat out beg, pushing himself up on his elbows so that he could regard Terushima on somewhat equal ground. He considered the question, turning it over in his mind, but really there was only one answer. He looked up at Terushima and said, “I want to take this as far as you’re willing.”

 

“Are you absolutely sure?” Terushima asked.

 

“I am,” Daichi said. “But are you? It’s okay if you’re not, you know.”

 

“Daichi, all I want right now is to fuck you until you can’t remember your own name.” Daichi blinked at the intensity in Terushima’s voice. He smiled, leaning over until he could dig around in his bedside drawer.

 

“So do it then,” he said, pressing his bottle of lube into Terushima’s hand. “And hurry, I’m literally dying over here.”

 

“Whatever you say, princess,” laughed Terushima as he set the bottle to one side and curled his fingers in the waistband of Daichi’s briefs. Despite his cockiness, he still looked up and waited for Daichi to nod before he pulled them off.

 

Laid totally bare before Terushima, all of Daichi’s fears came flooding back at once. Terushima must have seen it, because he leaned forward and kissed Daichi slowly and tenderly.

 

“Sorry,” Daichi gasped. “Could you?” He tugged on Terushima’s sweater in lieu of words. Terushima made a little noise of understanding and sat up. He pulled the sweater over his head, and Daichi bit back a whimper at how gorgeous Terushima’s body was. Terushima stood and pulled off his pants and underwear as well, climbing back on the bed every bit as naked as Daichi.

 

“Better?” he asked. Daichi nodded. “Okay, is it alright if I start now?”

 

“Please do,” Daichi said, spreading his legs. Terushima chuckled and scooped up the bottle of lube, slathering his fingers with it. He slid one slick finger around Daichi’s rim, teasing at pressing in and then darting away before he could. Daichi groaned, nudging Terushima pointedly with one knee. Terushima laughed again and slid the finger inside.

 

He moved slowly, pumping one finger in and out while his other hand wandered across Daichi’s body. By the time he added a second, Daichi was panting and on the brink of begging. After a few more minutes of that, Daichi did beg.

 

“Please,” he gasped. “Please, stop teasing.”

 

“I’m not,” said Terushima, utterly serious.

 

“Hurry it up then,” Daichi said. “Please, Yuuji, I need-” Terushima pushed a third finger in with the other two and Daichi’s begging broke off into a needy whine. His back arched as Terushima spread his fingers, stretching Daichi all the way. By the time he was satisfied that Daichi was loose enough, it was all Daichi could do not to cum on Terushima’s fingers alone. The broken noise he made when Terushima removed his fingers was not one he would easily admit to outside of this moment. He lay on his back panting while Terushima dug around in the drawer for a condom.

 

“Daichi, can I-”

 

“Terushima Yuuji, if you don’t fuck me in the next thirty seconds I swear I’ll-”

 

Terushima pressed the head of his cock against Daichi and pushed forward, and Daichi lost all ability to speak. He threw his head back, arched in a silent moan at the sheer pleasure of being filled at last. Terushima pressed in inch by inch until Daichi was sure he was about to implode with the heat coursing through his entire body.

 

When Terushima bottomed out inside him, Daichi burst into tears.

 

“Shit,” hissed Terushima. “Daichi, are you okay? Did I hurt you, do you need me to pull out, or-” He fluttered his hands in the air above Daichi, unsure what to do. Daichi struggled to pull himself together enough to smile at him.

 

“I’m okay,” he sobbed. “I’m just. I’m really. It’s a lot.”

 

“Do you need me to stop?” Terushima asked. Daichi shook his head.

 

“I need to-” he bit his lip, closing his eyes and throwing his head back. “Come here,” he pleaded. Terushima leaned down until Daichi could wrap his arms and legs around him. “Now move,” he ordered, and Terushima did.

 

He went slowly, pushing and pulling like a gentle tide as Daichi drowned in his presence. They had fucked more times that Daichi could count in college, but until this point they had never made love. Terushima moved like he was trying to make up for that fact.

 

“Fuck, Daichi, you’re so perfect,” he whispered. One hand cradled Daichi’s back while the other slid into his hair, petting lightly. “You’re everything I could ever want,” Terushima said.

 

“I love you.” It was such a quiet whisper that at first Daichi wasn’t sure he even said it out loud. But then Terushima buried his face in the crook of Daichi’s shoulder and started crying.

 

“I love you too,” Terushima sobbed. “I love you, Daichi, so much, I-”

 

Neither of them saw the end coming until it had pulled them both under. Daichi clung to Terushima as the waves of pleasure washed over him and he was undone and remade. When he came back to himself, Terushima was still crying against his shoulder.

 

“Hey,” cooed Daichi, stroking his hair. “What’s this all about?”

 

“I just-” Terushima rolled over so that he could look at Daichi and still hold him close. “I never thought I’d get to have this,” he said. Fresh tears pooled in Daichi’s eyes as well.

 

“Stay the night?” he whispered. Terushima nodded.

 

“We should probably shower first,” he said.

 

“In a bit,” murmured Daichi. “I want to enjoy you first.”

 

“Sap.” A grin dawned across Terushima’s face, golden and perfect, and Daichi found himself answering in kind.

 

“For you,” he whispered. “Everything, for you.”

 

He pulled Terushima closer to him, weaving their legs together and burying his nose in Terushima’s hair. That night, he would shower with Terushima, and make him dinner and maybe watch a movie and maybe make out on the couch instead of watching a movie and maybe do a thousand other things instead. And in the morning, he would still be there.

 

In the morning, they would begin the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> For the ever lovely Ry!  
> This was a doozy to write, and I didn't quite get to everything I had planned, SO! This is going in a brand new series! I am tentatively hoping for five parts in total, but since I'm going to be busy next month with Anatomy and my original work, we'll see how it goes.  
> [Tumblr](http://notsuchasecret.tumblr.com)


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